


Pursuits

by blackchaps



Series: Accidents [5]
Category: Law & Order: SVU, Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: Toby and Elliot draw closer, work and parole officers aren't going to make this easy.





	Pursuits

******

Stabler looked around the apartment. It was lunch, and he'd stopped by to see if Beecher wanted to grab some food, but he wasn't here. He was never here, even when he was home. He'd moved his computer desk back to his room, and there he stayed. They didn't even lift weights together anymore. What the hell was going on with him?

*******

Toby waited until Stabler was long gone before slinking up to his apartment. Why Stabler was home at lunch was a mystery that Toby had no desire to solve. They were better off avoiding each other. Stabler was a cop. Toby was a skel, and never the two should meet.

********

"Stabler."

"Hello, Detective. This is Angus Beecher."

Stabler lowered his voice. "What do you need?"

"I'm trying to get hold of Toby. Have you seen him?"

"No. I'm not his wife." Stabler paused. "Later." He shut the phone. The fact that Angus had called him worried him more than he'd admit. Beecher was ducking his brother? Some serious shit was up with him.

"That related to the case?" Benson asked.

"No." Stabler didn't want to discuss it, even with her. He didn't have time to baby-sit Beecher.

********

Toby took his dinner to his room and his computer. Stabler might come home. He had a way of showing up when the food was warm. Toby did not want to talk to him or even look at him. It wasn't much later that he heard the door shut hard. That was Stabler's calling card. Toby got up to quietly close his door, but he didn't make it. He took one big step back.

"Beecher, your brother called me today at work. Turn on your damn cell phone!"

Toby felt the blood drain from his face. Stabler was furious with him. Toby managed to choke out, "Sorry. I'll call him."

"Do that!" Stabler took a small step and put his hand on the doorknob. "Here. Let me shut your cell door for the night!"

Toby barely had the courage to nod, and the door slammed. Fuck. He leaned a hand against the wall. He was safer in here than out there. Stabler. Christ. Toby knew that he was doing the right thing. Stabler didn't need to hang out with an ex-con, even one that cooked for him. Toby dug out his cell phone, discovered it had gone dead, and stuck it on the charger. He'd call his brother in the morning. Right now, email was enough.

_Angus,_

_For fuck's sake, don't ever call Stabler at work because we need to chat. He about tore me a new asshole. My cell went dead. Did you get all the paperwork I sent you?_

_Love, Toby_

Toby sent it and ate some food. He had no appetite, but since he'd started running again, he had to eat. Every day he went a little farther, and it got him out of the apartment early. By the time he got back, Stabler was long gone. Sooner or later, Stabler would take a day off, but the schedule was working for now.

His computer made the sound that meant he had email, and he opened it up.

_Toby,_

_What the hell is going on with you? Are you scared of him? Yes, I got the paperwork. Stabler's divorce will be final as soon as the papers are signed by both parties. I'll send them around tomorrow._

_Charge your damn phone,  
Angus_

Toby nodded. That was good news for Stabler. He clicked reply.

_Angus,_

_That's good news. Hell yes I'm scared of him. Have you seen him? ;) Charging my damn phone. Lunch tomorrow?_

_Fucked,  
Toby_

Toby clicked send and sat back to wait. He could hear the sound of the television, and soon he'd take his plate to the sink. One foray out into the living room was usually safe enough. The reply didn't take long.

_Toby,_

_I've seen him. Be scared. :0 Lunch is fine. I'll pick you up at noon. Wear a suit. We're meeting with clients._

_Tired,  
Angus_

Toby nodded and closed the window. It had taken longer than a week to get Stabler his divorce, but it was done. He grabbed his plate and slipped out to the kitchen. Stabler had his back flat on the weight bench, and Toby didn't let his eyes linger. It was better this way. Better. Toby grabbed a water and went back to his cell. He shut his door without slamming it.

_"You're being a fucking idiot, Beech." Chris reclined on the bed, his hand stuffed in his pants. "Or a bitch. You choose."_

Toby rubbed his eyes and ignored his insanity.

********

Stabler saw a familiar face when he went into the station house. He slowed down and said, "Hey, Levinson, thanks for giving Beecher a ride home the other day."

Levinson smirked at him. It wasn't nice. "You owe me one for transporting the little faggot. I told him he was nothing but a skel and don't ever forget it."

"Excuse me?" Stabler was careful not to show his anger at hearing all of that shit. "Wait. Tell me what he said."

Levinson shrugged. "I asked him if he expected you to kiss him. He mentioned that he only wanted a little respect. I reminded him that he was a skel, and you'd never forget it. What a whiner. How do you put up with him?"

"Did you call him a faggot?" Stabler frowned. This was unexpected.

"Yeah." Levinson finally started to look worried. "What's the problem?"

"I wanted you to take him home, not insult him." Stabler stuck his hands in his pockets. Now he had a few answers to the mystery of Beecher's strange behavior. "Next time, skip the verbal abuse and do what I ask."

Levinson raised his eyebrows. "Okay. If that's what you want."

Stabler stalked off before he started yelling. He yanked off his coat and hung it up.

"Who pissed in your coffee?" Benson grabbed a hanger.

Stabler almost didn't answer, but she was his partner. "I bumped into Levinson downstairs. He was bragging about how he called Beecher a faggot. For some reason, it rubbed me wrong."

"The other night at the crime scene?"

"Yes. Beecher wanted to get a cab. I insisted on the black and white and then Levinson messed with him. It's no wonder he won't give me the time of day." Stabler went to his desk with Benson a half-step behind.

She folded her hands and smiled at him. "He's not talking to you? He's handling your divorce!"

"Yeah. I noticed." Stabler leaned back in his chair. It was more complicated than she could ever understand. Yes, Beecher spoke to him, but it wasn't the same. Stabler tried one more time. "Every night I go home, he runs to his room and doesn't come out."

"He's angry."

Stabler lowered his voice and leaned closer. "That's the thing. He doesn't act angry. It's almost like he's worried I'm going to arrest him or something. He's driving me nuts!"

"And all because Levinson called him names?" Benson shook her head. "Something else is going on there."

"Like I have time to figure it out." Stabler picked up his messages and leafed through them. He had to make a phone call. "At least he doesn't hog the remote."

Benson rolled her eyes. "Men."

********

Toby clipped on his badge, damn mug shot, and went to find Stabler. Doing this at the police station was irregular, but it would keep it short. He caught sight of Benson and stopped to talk with her. She looked good as usual.

"Hi, Olivia. How are you?"

"Nice suit, Toby." Olivia smiled at him. "Hot date?"

"Had to do the lawyer thing with my brother." Toby shrugged. "Lunch with clients. It was painful, at best."

"And just out of curiosity, what was your recommendation?" Olivia started towards the desks.

Toby spotted Stabler immediately. "They were not the sort of people our firm needs to be involved with, at any level."

"Who?" Stabler asked.

"It doesn't matter." Toby wasn't going to discuss it. "Can we talk upstairs?"

"Sure." Stabler got up slowly and gave him a look. "I should straighten my tie."

"Don't hurt yourself." Toby was glad he was in a suit. It made dealing with Stabler easier, resisting all that charm easier. He laid out the documents on the table and explained them quickly. "Unscheduled visits except for holidays, which are listed. She insists that you will follow her schedule on those days or you won't see them, at all. It's her final offer or she's prepared to demand that you only be allowed supervised visits."

"What?" Stabler sat down with a thud. "Supervised?"

"By the court." Toby pointed to the relevant paragraphs. "She would try to prove that you're an unfit parent, and she wouldn't win, but she would tie this up for a number of months. We're talking about Christmas. Women like schedules. Sign."

Stabler picked up the documents and began reading. Toby let him. There was no rush, except that he wanted out of here as quickly as possible, before they sent him to prison again or asked him to bare his soul for minimum wage. He stood and went to look down on the other detectives working or sipping coffee or exchanging jokes, probably about him. Well, that was being paranoid, but jokes about people like him, yes.

"You renegotiated the settlement?"

Toby turned and nodded. "I did. It was too much. They knew it. It would have put a substantial financial burden on you. Moonlighting as security isn't healthy, and if you're dead, you can't pay child support."

Stabler stared at him. "They let you do that?"

"I had to start the case from scratch. Your previous attorney had made a number of procedural errors. The judge agreed, and we began again. That was the reason for the delay."

"And you're not a lawyer."

"Not anymore." Toby reached in his vest pocket and withdrew an envelope. "Here's the bill."

Stabler took it, but didn't open it. He signed the divorce papers. "Now what?"

"Now I take them to her lawyer." Toby gathered them up and put them in his briefcase. "She'll sign. She's tired also."

Stabler nodded and tucked the bill away in his coat pocket. "I spoke to the cop that took you home the other night."

Toby knew where this was going instantly. Stabler had found out one of his boys was living up to cop standards. He probably thought it was hilarious. "I'm not discussing that with you. Excuse me, I have an appointment."

Stabler looked astonished. "Really? With little Maria?"

Toby went down the stairs quickly, tossed a wave at Benson, and got the hell out of the squad room. He was not going to stand around and let them laugh at the faggot.

********

"He’s mad at you."

Stabler sat down in his chair. "I think it's more than that. He's made up his mind about something, and he doesn't want to talk about it."

"He's decided that you’re a jerk." Benson quickly ducked her head to hide her laughter. Stabler threw his pencil at her.

"Was that Toby Beecher?" Huang asked.

Stabler swiveled in his chair. "Yes. I believe he was manifesting his lawyer persona."

Benson burst out laughing and abandoned him to talk with the doctor. Women. Huang didn't look amused. "He probably was."

"So, what's up, Doc?" Stabler did occasionally try to be funny. Munch groaned. He was always listening.

Huang sat in the chair near Stabler's desk. "I spoke to Angus Beecher this morning, concerning Toby's parole."

"They're going through with it. They got balls." Stabler smiled at him.

"I'm not sure they understand the difficulties that Toby faces."

Stabler knew Huang didn't. "Their family was destroyed. I think they understand it all pretty well."

Huang opened his mouth to start arguing. He did a lot of that in his kind, subtle way, and Benson came trotting back into the squad room. "Elliot, we have a problem. Now!"

Stabler moved as fast as he could. "What?"

Benson didn't talk. She dragged him towards the main entrance. Stabler saw it for himself clearly enough when he got there. Shit. Damn.

********

Toby didn't slow down until a uniformed police officer stepped right in front of him. "Can I help you?"

"Thanks to you. I took a rip!"

Toby gripped his briefcase tightly. Now he recognized the officer from the other night, but he lied, "I'm not sure who you are."

"Well, I know what you are!" The cop poked Toby in the chest.

Toby stepped back and looked around. No one seemed to notice or care. The place was noisy and busy. "Look. You have my apology."

The cop took him by the arm and led him a short distance down a hallway. Toby considered struggling and running, but it would make him look guilty. He was pushed up against the wall, and he could only try to breathe. Someone was going to notice, but there was no one around.

"You're a faggot!" The cop shoved him.

"Sorry." Toby had no idea what to say. This guy was irrational and smelled like booze. The cop laughed. He was half-drunk. The blow from the nightstick came out of nowhere, delivered fast, and Toby crumpled to his knees. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't fight back, not that it mattered. As of this moment, he was screwed, and he'd wake up somewhere behind bars. The cop laughed, pushed Toby's head back, and cracked him across the face.

"Trouble, Levinson?"

"This skel was yanking me." Levinson pulled him up, slammed him around, and cuffed him tightly. "I think he's violated his parole."

Toby tried to think. Rage was shoving everything aside. He wanted to kick and scream, but it was too late. He should've gotten angry before the cuffs were slapped on his wrists. Another cop showed up and said, "That's Beecher. He's SVU's pet consultant. Put him in a chair, we'll process him."

"I didn't do anything," Toby wheezed out. It was useless, but he had to say it once. He hit the chair hard and looked past Levinson into the alarmed eyes of Benson. She didn't help him. She went the other direction. Great. Another friend. Toby quit trying to reason with them. Fucked was such a good word to describe him.

********

"Turn him loose. Now!" Stabler turned up the volume and got right in Levinson's face. "You're half drunk!"

"He attacked me!" Levinson yelled back at him. "He's pissed I called him a faggot."

"No. That was me!" Stabler used his key to take the cuffs off Beecher and handed him his briefcase. "Mr. Beecher has an appointment. I hope he makes it on time!"

Beecher sidled toward the door. He looked somewhere between stunned and groggy. Benson gave him an escort, and Stabler let his anger out more fully. "Sergeant, arrest Levinson."

"What?"

"Trust me." Stabler noticed Fin lurking. "Get the security tape, Fin."

"On it." Fin nodded.

Benson came back inside. "I got him a cab, but he's probably going to sue us, again!"

Levinson put his hands on his hips. "That little faggot got me a rip!"

"No. I did that!" Stabler got in Levinson's face again. "Gun, now!" He waited until it was handed over. "Sit down!"

The sergeant didn't seem to know what to do. "Detective, I didn't see anything. If Levinson says Beecher hit him, it's-"

"A damn lie!" Stabler rounded on him. "I want his blood alcohol level tested." He made sure Levinson stayed put. "And get the lieutenant down here!"

Benson picked up the phone and thrust it at the sergeant. "Now!"

Stabler was glad to see someone else was losing their temper. His situation with Beecher had just gone from bad to worse, and there wasn't going to be anything he could say to make it better.

********

Toby delivered the papers to Mrs. Stabler's attorney. That done, he took a cab to the park and walked to a bench. He sat down, and some part of his brain knew he was in shock. That cop hated him. Benson had gotten Stabler, and Stabler had started tearing those cops new assholes. For him. It didn't make much sense. Did it? He watched the children play and enjoyed the weather. His cell phone rang twice, but he ignored it. There was no place he had to be, so he'd sit here.

"Toby?"

Toby didn't look at him. "What?"

"You should come home." Stabler reached with his hand. "Can't sit in the park all night."

Toby wondered why not. Oh yeah, that parole thing. He didn't touch the outstretched hand, but he stood up. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"It's eight o'clock at night." Stabler walked right next to him. "I'm glad I found you here."

Toby didn't ask why. He walked, went in his apartment, and headed for his room. "I'll be in my cell."

Stabler didn't answer. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. Toby shut the door quietly and started undressing. He wasn't hungry. Stabler could fend for himself tonight. Toby put on some sweats, his 'fuck me' T-shirt, and lay down on the bed. He was tired.

_"Toby, you're making a fucking mistake."_

_Toby folded his T-shirt and put it in his laundry bag. "How would you know?"_

_"Hey, he's me! Not really, but trust me on this, you are fucking it up."_

_Toby snorted. "Fuck you, Keller."_

********

"Did you find him?"

"Yeah." Stabler rubbed his hand through his hair. "He was at the park, half-asleep on a bench."

"He's probably exhausted." Huang sighed. "Talk to him about it, if he will."

"Okay." Stabler doubted it would do any good. He clicked off. His next call was to Toby's parole officer, Brad Johnson, and he quickly sketched in the information.

"You're sure he didn't attack that police officer?"

"You can see the video yourself. He did nothing except take a beating. He looked stunned." Stabler almost wished Beecher had fought back. It would have been more normal than complete passivity.

"I'll give it a look tomorrow. I need to give Beecher a piss test anyway." Johnson paused and asked again, "You're sure?"

"I'm positive." Stabler hated this. He tossed his cell on the coffee table and cursed softly. It didn't help. His stomach growled, and he sighed. He'd change clothes, eat, and check on Beecher. Damn that homophobic asshole.

********

_"Hey sweetpea, wake up and kiss me."_

_"Fuck off, Vern." Toby fumbled for his shank, but it was gone. Damn._

_Vern shoved Toby flat and pressed his hips hard into him. "So fuckable. Not really my fault."_

_"Get off me!" Toby tried again to pull his hands free from where Vern had strapped them down. "Off!"_

_"You need it. It's my job. You like it in the end. You always do." Vern laughed and the sound filled Toby's brain._

_"Please. God. Help me!"_

********

Stabler went through the door fast when he heard Beecher screaming. The light was on, and Beecher's eyes were shut but he was panicking. Stabler grabbed him and shook him.

"Toby!"

Beecher looked through him. "No more. Christ. I can't take it one more night."

Stabler didn't want to hit him. "Toby! Wake up!"

"Not one more night." Beecher curled around himself, and Stabler rocked him. Half-muffled sobs came from Beecher's throat. "Please. No."

Stabler smoothed Beecher's hair back. "You're safe. You're safe."

Beecher trembled. He began to gulp for air. Stabler squeezed him harder and wished he could actually help. Beecher put his hands against Stabler's chest and raised his head. His face was streaked with tears. "You can't do this to me."

"It's okay. You're safe."

"I'm never safe. I carry my hell with me." Beecher shook again. "Get out of my room. We're not the same. I'll get you dirty. Get out!"

Stabler didn't understand half of that. "Shut up." It made Beecher flinch, and Stabler used his strength to force him to lie still. "You're not awake, and you're being an idiot."

Beecher's breath shuddered in and out of him. He didn't struggle, but he was far from relaxed. "I hate my brain."

Stabler could understand that. Victims of sexual abuse never slept easy, and Beecher's abuse had been extreme. He rubbed him gently and said, "Rest. I'll stay with you."

Beecher sniffed and shook his head. "No. It's too hard. I need you to leave."

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?" Stabler wished the light was off. It would make this easier. "You've put yourself back in prison, and if it's because of me, I'm moving out."

Beecher wiggled away and sat on the other side of the bed with a hunched back. "I'm nothing but a skel. You deserve better than hanging out with me."

"Damn. I've heard some self-pity before but that about takes the cake." Stabler leaned back against the headboard and waited for the rest of it. "Did you decide that you're a stupid faggot also?"

"I'm not stupid." Beecher rubbed his face. "I can't deal with this. You know I'm shit and there you are, hogging the bed. When we were friends, I understood it. You were getting what you wanted, food, mostly. It made sense. Now, every time I turn around, your cock is that much closer."

Stabler took a ragged breath of his own. It did make sense. He'd crossed a line from friends to almost lovers, and Beecher couldn't handle it. "A part of being friends is helping each other. I was trying to help."

Beecher nodded. "Sure. Whatever." He held himself tightly. "I gotta get the ice pack."

"I'll get it." Stabler went to the kitchen, grabbed the ice pack and some water, and took them both to Beecher. "Let me see."

*********

Toby rubbed his face again. It was all so damn confusing, and he had no faith in his ability to make correct decisions, not when it came to Stabler. It had been the same way with Chris. Too much love had rendered him incapable of seeing the truth or the lies. It had all blended together into a heady mixture of pain and joy. Avoiding Stabler had been a bad idea. It had just pissed him off, and that was not a good thing.

"Let me see."

Toby shook his head, took the ice pack, and pressed it into his side. "Thanks."

Stabler sat down, opened the water, and handed it to him. "You have shitty luck when it comes to cops."

"I've noticed." Toby took a drink. The cobwebs were clearing, and all that was left was a sense of defeat. He'd be Vern's prag forever, and Stabler couldn't care about him in the way he so desperately needed. "Go get some sleep."

"Who were you dreaming about?" Stabler cocked an eyebrow at him. "Huang says it helps to talk it out."

Toby hissed slightly as the cold seeped into his side. He was doing the lump on his jaw next. "Like you listen to him."

"Sometimes he's right." Stabler reached and lifted Toby's shirt. Toby didn't fight about it. It would hurt. Stabler let it fall. "We're taking pictures tomorrow."

"Stabler, I swear, you are trying to get me killed. Since we met, I've been sent to prison, _twice_ , beaten, robbed, beaten again, oh, and beaten by cops! Now you want me to press assault charges? You're fucking fucked in the head. Next time I walk in that station, they'll drag me to a storage closet, and that'll be the end of one faggot skel!"

"Are you finished?"

"Pretty much." Toby moved the ice pack to his jaw. He flinched in pain. Christ. None of this had hurt last night.

"Rat squad was all over this. Video showed him approaching you, taking you, and hitting you. And he was legally drunk. No one was standing in his corner, not after I got done with him."

"He has buddies. All bad cops do." Toby drank some more water. Now he was hungry, and he wasn't going to try to sleep again tonight. He scooped up his cell phone and ordered pizza. Stabler didn't say anything, but he looked happy about that decision. Toby glared at him. "I want you off my bed, out of my room, and nowhere near my pizza!"

"Please?"

Toby stared at him in disbelief. "I don't fucking believe this. What part of faggot skel do you not understand?"

Stabler got off the bed. He came around to Toby and tilted Toby's head to the side. Toby allowed it, of course. He had no fight in him when it came to Stabler. Stabler sighed. "You're not a faggot, and really skel doesn't fit either. They're ugly words that you've taken far too seriously. Yes, you seem to swim both directions, and yes, you went to prison and are now on parole, but that doesn't make you scum."

"If only you knew," Toby muttered. Too many dead people would disagree with that. Stabler needed a reality check. Toby nudged Stabler's hands away and stood. "When you put me in that holding cell that was the correct decision. Because of Oz, I can never be trusted. Don't forget it."

Stabler reached for him, more of that friendship crap, and Toby put his hand on Stabler's chest to hold him back. Stabler's eyes were large, and he said, "I trust you. Now, tell me who was in your dream."

Toby hoped his head didn't explode from stress. He moved away from him, found his wallet, and went out to the couch to wait for his pizza. "Put on a shirt or I'm going to lick your nipples."

Stabler crossed his arms. "Okay." He disappeared into his room. Toby smirked. That was the way to get rid of him.

_Chris nodded. "Yeah, you're real fucking smart, Toby."_

*********

Stabler yanked on a sweatshirt. He growled under his breath, "I'd like to rip his nipples off." But it was a lie. Holding him felt fine, and if Beecher had licked him, Stabler might have done nothing more than groan. Shit. Beecher was in the middle of a personal crisis, which Stabler had helped set up, and he was thinking of nipples. Of course, none of this would have happened if he'd have let Beecher take a cab. It had seemed safer to send him in a patrol car, but it had been a mistake. Beecher wanted a little respect. Stabler lowered his head and groaned softly. He never seemed to get it right when it came to Beecher.

"Who was it?" Stabler pushed the issue of the dream again. He wanted to know. "Was it me? Keller?"

Beecher shot him a glare. "It was Schillinger."

"The Nazi." Stabler thought that guy would give anyone nightmares. "Do you have them frequently?"

"Often enough." Beecher didn't look at him again. "It had been awhile."

There was a lot that Stabler didn't understand about Beecher, but this was a big thing. "Did you dream you were killing him again?"

"No. That would be a pleasant dream." Beecher got up and paced over to the window. "He was telling me that it was my fault. I was fuckable."

"That's very common." Stabler had to say it.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Doesn't it? You're not alone. You're not odd." Stabler went to start the coffee. It was five a.m., and he wasn't going back to sleep. "Intellectually, you know you're not responsible for his actions."

Beecher wandered over and sat on a barstool. "Some of them, yes. I might have stayed his prag forever if Ryan O'Reily hadn't gotten me hooked on heroin."

"You did that." Stabler pushed the responsibility back on Beecher.

"Yes. I know. But it was the bad angel dust that O'Reily gave me that pushed me over the edge. Of course, he didn't force me to snort it." Beecher sipped his water. "It's complicated, and it all makes me look brain damaged, which I suspect happened, but the point is that I'm going to have nightmares about Vern. You need to roll over, cover your ears with the pillow, and not worry about it."

"You make it sound so easy," Stabler said softly. He couldn't do that, so he lied, "Okay. I won't even try to help."

"I'd appreciate that." Beecher pulled some money from his wallet and answered the knock at the door. "Keep the change."

Stabler sincerely hoped that he got a piece or two. The pizza boy laughed and said, "Nice shirt. Can I fuck you?"

Beecher shut the door hard. Stabler rubbed his hand down his face. "Where the hell did you get that shirt?"

"Chris bought it for me." Beecher banged the pizza on the countertop. "Yes, you can have some, so put the puppy dog eyes away."

"Keller was a prick."

"I know." Beecher shrugged. "He killed two men that I slept with. Trust me, the shirt was all about him, no one else."

Stabler realized again that he had no business discussing Keller. "He killed two men."

"Yes, and then he calmly informed me to watch where I put my dick. It was lethal." Beecher started gingerly eating during his calm recitation. Stabler wasn't sure he could eat now. He picked up a piece and took a bite. What the hell could he say? There was a chance that Beecher was right about them. How could they be friends when they were so different?

"And you loved him?" Stabler knew he'd asked that before.

"Angel dust, baby." Beecher pointed at his head. "Look. You're a good cop, a nice guy, and I've grown fond of having you around, but I'm nothing but a convict, addict, drunk, skel, faggot, and you need to come to grips with that. I deserved Keller, but I sure as fuck don't deserve you, not even as a friend."

Stabler wasn't sure which disturbed him more. The quiet ease at which Beecher painted himself as filth or the fact that Beecher didn't want to deserve him. Maybe the road to take here was the one of passive resistance. "Okay. Fine. I'm a cop. You're a skel. But we can still be friends, right?"

Beecher sighed and ate his pizza. He didn't answer. Stabler poured them coffee and waited for the sun to come up. Today, he was divorced, and as he glanced at his roommate, his good sense forced him to understand that he didn't want to lose Beecher too.

********

Toby had the answer to his problem of Stabler. Driving him away would be ridiculously simple. The truth should do it. There was only one catch. Stabler would be gone, and Toby wasn't sure he could face that. When he'd eaten as much pizza as his jaw could stand, he went to shower. That done, he dressed in his running clothes, but before he could get out the door, someone knocked on it. He pulled it open, half-expecting to see Benson, but it was two cops that he didn't know. They were in suits, but they were cops.

"Can I help you?" Toby made sure to keep his arm on the door.

"Tobias Beecher?"

Toby nearly denied it. It wasn't always a good idea to be him. "Yes?"

"I'm Detective Harmon and this is my partner, Detective Franks." They wanted inside. It was obvious.

"Badges?" Toby waited to see them and continued to block the door. "What do you need?"

"We want to go over what happened at the police station yesterday. May we come in?" They edged closer.

Toby could refuse them, but they'd call Johnson, and it would look bad, to say the damn least. "Give me one minute to clean up." He shut the door and went to Stabler's room. "Stabler?"

Stabler turned and frowned. "What?"

"Two detectives are here: Harmon and Franks. Should I let them in?" Toby didn't like the look that swept over Stabler's face.

"Rat squad. You can say no, but I wouldn't." Stabler straightened his tie. "I won't leave."

"Thanks." Toby went back to the door. "Come on in. Sorry I made you wait."

They glanced at each other in a pissy way, and Toby shut the door behind them. He happened to notice that Stabler was now nursing a cup of coffee on a barstool. Stabler didn't smile.

"Rats are out early today."

Toby had the feeling he was missing something. These guys were cops, and didn't Stabler embrace everyone with a badge? "What do you fellas need?"

Harmon glared at them both. "We need a statement concerning the incident at the station house."

"I don't intend to file charges," Toby said quickly, hopefully that would put an end to it, and they'd leave. He wanted to go jogging. He needed it.

Harmon and Franks looked at each other again. "We still need your statement so we can proceed against Officer Levinson."

Stabler snorted. "My report wasn't enough for you?"

Frank stepped forward. "No. It wasn't. Mr. Beecher, why don't you accompany us to our office? We can talk privately."

Toby felt cornered, and he saw the slight shake of Stabler's head. "No. Thank you. We can do it here."

Stabler nodded. "Beecher is expecting his parole officer."

"I am?" Toby sighed. He should have known. "That's right. I am. Shit. Look guys. It was a misunderstanding. That cop thought I'd lodged a complaint against him. It was no big deal."

"Your busted face suggests otherwise." Franks was too close. "Is it true you made sexual advances towards Officer Levinson?"

Toby felt all the blood rush to his feet. "No. Absolutely not."

"He claims that you did." Harmon smiled. "Lying in the course of an investigation is a violation of your parole, and your parole officer is only one button away." He held up his cell phone.

"I want my lawyer." Toby could think of nothing else to say. These guys really were rats.

Stabler stood up, and all eyes turned to him. "He isn't lying. What did Levinson say to you in the patrol car, Beecher?"

Toby took a deep breath. He wanted to run from the room or lie, but Stabler must know. Damn it. Toby spoke softly. "He said, 'Good night, faggot. Unless you want to suck my dick.' I told him no thanks."

Stabler's eyes burned hot. Harmon looked at the floor, and Frank cleared his throat before saying, "How can you remember so clearly?"

"I felt dirty." Toby kept his eyes away from Stabler. "Are we finished?"

"Not by a long shot," Harmon said. "You're not pressing charges against a man that propositioned and beat you? Why? Did he pay you off?"

Toby looked at Stabler and lifted his hands in a plea for help. These guys were crazy. "No. He didn't."

"You're digging deep on this one," Stabler snapped.

"We're also getting around to whether or not you're paying fair market value on this apartment and if you've intimated Mr. Beecher into allowing you to live here," Franks spat. "Did you tune him up?"

Toby got his phone, ignoring the officers that were squared off in his apartment. For some reason, Stabler hated these guys. It was time to move this elsewhere and get some help. "Angus?"

"Trouble?"

"Yes." Toby looked at Harmon. "I need you to meet me at Detective Harmon's office down at the precinct."

"On my way." Angus clicked off.

Toby tucked the phone away. "Let's go to your office, Detective."

"Don't say anything that you don't have to, Toby." Stabler stepped closer to him. "Remember that right to stay silent thing."

"I don't have that right." Toby shook his head. "Go to work and don't worry about this stupid shit."

"Cute, little lovebirds, ain't they?" Harmon cracked.

Toby wasn't going to take that. "Gentlemen, you can act respectful to Detective Stabler or you can forget about any cooperation from me."

"That'll earn you a trip to Oz." Frank smiled. "You don't want that."

"It wouldn't bother me at all. You have no leverage." Toby smiled back at him. "Let's go."

Stabler looked completely pissed, but he didn't say a word as they took him out the door. At least they didn't bother with cuffs. Toby got in the back and promised himself a run today, if he wasn't at Oz, waiting to be processed.

********

Stabler made two quick calls. One to Johnson to tell him what was going on, and the other to Angus to warn him. Beecher had no idea what he was up against. The rat squad found corruption at every turn, even where it wasn't, and they had a grudge against him. He snapped his phone shut, grabbed up his keys, and went to work.

Benson wanted to know what was going on, and he filled her in. She was as disgusted as he was. "Toby said that to them?"

"I hope he was bluffing."

"He'd go to Oz for you," Benson said matter-of-factly. "It wasn't a bluff."

"What an idiot," Stabler growled, but he'd believed it, and Harmon had also. It wasn't going to look great if the IAB came away convinced that he had a gay lover, but more importantly, if Beecher went back, Holly was going to kill him.

Cragen stepped out of his office. "Time to go to work."

Stabler was going to take Beecher's advice this time. He was going to work and not worry about it, not much.

*********

"Go back to work, Angus." Toby gave him a quick hug. "I'm sorry I dragged you down here for this."

"You needed some help." Angus spoke quietly. "You're certain you won't press charges against that officer?"

"No. It wouldn't be smart." Toby took him towards the door. "I have to see my parole officer. And Angus?"

"What?" Angus looked slightly guilty.

"Don't fuck with the system concerning my parole. Johnson will fight it. Huang will argue it, and they'll pull out that tape to show that I can't be trusted. Just don't." Toby shook his head. "Please. It'll make my life harder."

"Mother wants it for you."

"I know. I love her, but now is not the time. Maybe next year." Toby walked him to his car. "Go to work. I'll call you."

Angus nodded. "Okay. I'll put the brakes on. Stabler is divorced, as of today."

"Catholics marry forever." Chris had told him that. "Later."

Angus drove away, and Toby caught a cab over to Johnson's office. He went through the metal detector, signed in, and found a magazine. This whole day was going to suck.

"Beecher, get in here."

Toby got up and wished it had taken longer. He didn't talk. He sat down. Johnson handed him a cup and pointed at the bathroom. Toby took care of that, put it on Johnson's desk, and sat back down.

"You're quiet today." Johnson fiddled with some papers.

Toby shrugged and smoothed his hair back. He felt about one inch from a cell, and he didn't mind going. At least there, he'd know the rules of the game.

_"Hold it together, Toby."_

Toby almost nodded at Chris, but he wasn't really standing right behind him. Johnson still hadn't said a word. He was looking at something. Toby waited. He was used to this casual you're-nothing-but-shit treatment.

"I looked at the tape, twice. You came so fucking close. Natalini would ship you back just for being involved." Johnson hesitated. "But it's clear that you didn't do anything. Why was Officer Levinson in your face?"

"He said I was a faggot, and that I'd gotten him a rip." Toby stared at his hands in his lap. He was close to losing his temper and his mind, and nothing good ever came of that. "I'm not pressing charges."

"You should. He assaulted you." Johnson stood up and came around his desk. He leaned against it, directly in front of him. "You're staying clean?"

Toby almost got up. Johnson was too close. He was a threat. Suddenly, Toby remembered that he had to answer the question. "Yes. I live with Stabler."

"He works a lot." Johnson crossed his arms. "Don't think I'll cut you slack because of it!"

Toby wouldn't dream of it. He looked back down at his lap and made sure his hands didn't clench in anger. He was fine. Fine. Fine.

"Huang's last report mentioned that you might benefit from a looser curfew." Johnson didn't sound all that happy about it. "Eleven p.m., but for fuck's sake, don't screw up right after this incident. You'll look guilty as hell."

"Yes, sir." Toby didn't celebrate the extra time. It wasn't as if he was dating anyone. He wanted desperately to leave, but he didn't stand up. The meeting never ended when he was ready.

"Everything okay with you? You seem quiet."

Toby looked up at him. "I'm fine." He wasn't, but he'd sort the bodies out later. The important thing was to get the hell out of here.

"Okay then. I'll see you in two weeks." Johnson went back behind his desk and sat down. He picked up another file. "Tell Gomez to get in here."

"Sure." Toby calmly went out the door. "Gomez! Get the fuck in there."

Gomez swaggered over. "Puta."

Toby didn't stand around to argue that. He headed for the park and his run. The pounding of the pavement drove away some of the anger of the day. Being treated like a faggot never set well with him, and the scorn made him furious. Whether he was gay or not, nobody should be ridiculed like that.

_"You ain't a faggot, Toby. You're sexy though."_

Toby ran past Chris without stopping. Stabler thought Toby swam both ways. That was fucking hilarious, and he chuckled. Toby appreciated every port he sailed into, that was all. If he were going to keep his eyes off Stabler's ass, he was going to have to get laid soon. Fuck. It didn't matter how many women or men he fucked. He still wanted Stabler to-.

"Toby!"

Toby slowed down to let him catch up. "Hey, Tom. When did you take up jogging again?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

Toby matched Tom's pace. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Okay." Toby didn't want to talk. They jogged together until they were both sweating and out of breath. Toby checked his watch and slowed to a walk. That was enough for today. He was getting back in shape, and another week would see him to where he'd been before that Nazi had attacked him.

"I miss you, Toby." Tom wiped his face with a towel.

Toby didn't rush to get an answer out. He used his towel and thought about it. "I can't take a chance. I'm clean, for now."

Tom smiled ruefully. "I really screwed up."

Toby found a guy selling water and bought two. He tossed one of them to Tom. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Tom rubbed his head again with the towel. "Did Stabler crack you across the face?"

"No. Some other cop." Toby watched Tom's eyes get bigger. "I'm hanging on, Tom. One puff of wind and I'll be back behind bars."

"I understand." Tom sighed. "Lunch? Next month?"

"Sure." Toby hoped he'd still be on the outside. He went towards his apartment, but stopped at the closest bench and stared down at its occupant. "Are you checking up on me?"

"Nah." Stabler would deny it. "We cleared the case early, so I came home."

"Your boss know?" Toby stretched a little. His ribs ached. He wasn't going to mention that the park wasn't home, so obviously Stabler had come looking for him.

"Yes." Stabler got up and fell into step beside him. "You okay?"

Toby shrugged. He was coping. "Did the rat squad come after you?"

"Not yet. They will when they're ready." Stabler didn't seem to care. They walked together, and Toby wished he knew what the guy next to him was thinking. Stabler unlocked the door and shoved it open. Toby went right to the shower and stayed in it long enough to get wrinkly. He had a new curfew and could go out to eat, if he wanted. Or he could hide in his room. Looking in the mirror, he cringed at his ribs and face. Damn. He'd always bruised easily. Dressed and clean, he ventured out and sat down to watch the six o'clock news with Stabler.

"You're not gonna hide tonight?"

"I might. It's safer in there." Toby gently ran his fingers over his face. At least the fucker had missed his eye. "What's going to happen to that cop?"

"Since you're not pressing charges, he's not going to jail. He'll never work as a cop again, but that's no big loss." Stabler gave him a look. "Fin told me that everyone agrees that you're a stand up guy."

"For a faggot."

Stabler didn't answer that. He glanced at his watch. "I'm hungry."

Toby didn't ask if that meant he was supposed to cook. He went to the fridge, got the ice pack, and headed to his room. He needed to think, somewhere away from the seductive smell of Stabler.

********

Stabler wasn't going to talk about that faggot shit. Most guys at the station didn't even give it a thought. They'd seen Beecher with Benson. Beecher wasn't a faggot, and that was the end of it. Stabler wasn't surprised when Beecher bolted to his room. He couldn't seem to handle much lately, and today had been a rough one. If Tom were back in the picture, things could get worse. Stabler changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Kathy had called him. It was final. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands. Divorce was a sin, the big one. He slipped his thumb over his wedding ring. It was supposed to be forever, but forever hadn't lasted very long. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? Date? Hire hookers?

"I'm headed out to Starbucks. Want me to bring you something back?"

Stabler didn't look up. Beecher didn't want company. Beecher didn't want to be friends, not any longer. Kathy had agreed with that. Was he so hard to get along with? He tried his best, and it was never enough, not for anyone that he really cared about. His father had told him that he was nothing but a piece of shit. How could it be true? It seemed like it was though.

"Stabler?"

Stabler got up and put on his coat. He made sure he had his keys, cell, and money. "No."

Beecher gave him an odd look and got out of the way. Stabler was careful not to slam the door. He'd go to Cavanaugh's. He did have friends there, not great friends, but they were good enough.

********

Toby watched from the window as Stabler caught a cab and disappeared into the city. Stabler never went out on a work night. He liked his TV. Toby had seen him rubbing his ring. This was about his wife and being divorced. Chris had explained it once. Catholics think divorce is a sin, the kind of sin that sticks with a person. Toby didn't understand it, but Stabler was upset, which was natural. Chris had mentioned more than once that Toby was a selfish bitch. Stabler had needed a friend, and Toby had stepped aside. Shit. He found his cell phone.

"Olivia?"

"That's me. What's up, Toby?"

Toby hesitated. Maybe this was a bad idea, but it was too late. "Stabler's divorce was final today."

"Really?" Benson paused. "Is he upset?"

"I don't know. He stormed out of here." Toby exaggerated a little.

"I know his favorite bar. I'll go check on him." Benson clicked off, and Toby was glad she was going. Stabler had a favorite bar? Probably a bar called Cavanaugh's, a cop hang out that wasn't too far from here. Toby would go to Starbucks, a faggot hang out. He locked the door behind him and made sure of the time. He wasn't coming back until ten fifty nine.

********

Stabler didn't cry in his beer, but he considered it as he sat alone at the bar. He wasn't fit company for casual acquaintances, much less friends. The beer was good though, and he ordered a double bacon cheeseburger and fries before he finished his first one. His arteries might kill him, but he wasn't taking a chance on getting drunk, not on a work night.

"Hey, can I join you?"

"If you gotta." Stabler kept his eyes on the game. "Don't feel the need to chat."

"Ouch." Benson ordered a white wine. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"That's the plan. We'll see how it goes." Stabler told himself that he cared, but he didn't, not tonight. "What brings you here? Ain't the company."

Benson touched him gently on the arm. "I heard about the divorce. I know you're taking it hard."

Stabler shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it. "She checked out a long time ago."

"But you never did." Benson paid for the wine and took a sip. "Weird couple of days."

Stabler took his eyes off the game and focused on her. "I guess. The rat squad will probably be around tomorrow. They have some stupid idea that Toby lets me rent a room because he's scared of me."

"You're kidding."

"No." Stabler rolled his eyes. "They've never seen his shank."

Benson laughed softly. "Or had their nuts stomped."

"Shut up about that," Stabler growled, but it was funny. "He hit me with a cane. I was stunned."

"I read the fake report." Benson smiled at him. "Find a new place, if you're worried."

Stabler knew he should do that. He knew it was the right decision. "He cooks."

"And he has a shiny weight set and a plasma TV. I know." Benson twirled her wine glass. "He's also your friend."

"Not any longer." Stabler went back to studying the game. "He's made up his mind on that. Levinson was the straw that, and you know the rest."

Benson didn't answer until her wine glass was empty and she was about to leave. "Who do you think called me?" And she waved goodbye. Stabler stared after her before ordering another beer. Beecher had called her. Passing off the buck because he couldn't be bothered, typical lawyer crap.

********

Toby drank his coffee and surfed the internet. After he'd read the news, he googled Stabler's name and read everything that had accumulated on him. Charities he'd donated to, cases that had made the news, and other tidbits of information. Toby was a lousy friend on a good day, and he'd never given it a thought that Stabler might be having a hard time. No, he was too busy whining about his ribs. Fuck. He hated it when Chris was right.

"Mind if I sit here? This place is busy tonight."

Toby looked up at the young man who wanted to sit at his table. He looked harmless enough. "Sure."

"Thanks." The guy smiled. "Alex, you?"

"Toby." He didn't smile back. "You can have the computer in a second."

"I don't mind waiting until you're finished." Alex turned on the charm.

Toby checked his email quickly and noticed that Sister Pete still hadn't gotten back to him. It was time to go see her. He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did. Signing out and closing all his windows, he turned it. "Here."

"Thanks." Alex was still smiling. Toby wanted to smack him. What the fuck was there to be so happy about? He finished his coffee quickly. Alex licked his lips. "My place isn't too far."

"So?" Toby left the table and didn't look back. He absolutely had to be gay. No women ever hit on him. Well, that wasn't completely true, but they did seem to stay away. They were smart. He had the stench of trouble on him. Women probably flocked around Stabler, but the guys were smart enough to lick their lips from a distance. Toby walked home, but didn't go up. It was early. He found a cab and followed his heart. Of course, it was stupid, but that's who he was.

********

Stabler lined up the bottles and counted. Not that many and the game was almost over. He'd go find his bed at the end of it.

"Hey, Stabler."

Stabler put his last bottle down carefully and turned his barstool. "Beecher! Get out of here!"

"Nice to see you, too." Beecher sat down next to him. He waved the bartender over. "Cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke."

Stabler nearly grabbed him by the shirt, but he managed to control himself. "You get shipped, it ain't my damn fault."

"I fucking know that." Beecher pointed at the bottles. "You're a fucking lightweight!"

"I'm not a damn drunk!" Stabler wanted to hit him with one of them. Johnson was going to kill him for this.

"You curse better when you have a few under your belt." Beecher grinned that crazy one at him. "And about now you should be switching to whiskey."

Stabler didn't think so. That would be stupid. He finished his last one and lined it up with the others. The buzzer rang, the game was over, and he could go home. "Game's over."

"Always a game on somewhere." Beecher took his Coke and sipped it. "This is much better with bourbon in it."

"I don't agree." Stabler leaned into his fist. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I was afraid you'd get drunk, sleep in the gutter, and come home smelling like a bum." Beecher turned and looked the bar over. "I count ten cops, and I'm not even trying."

Stabler nodded. He was among friends here, except for Beecher. "I don't see any lawyers."

"Me neither." Beecher moved his drink so the bartender could put down the plate of food. "Thanks. Keep the change."

"You're always so free with that money." Stabler took a fry and ate it. "Aren't you worried you'll run out?"

"Not this month." Beecher started eating. He didn't look worried, not about anything, even his parole, and that was stupid.

Stabler stole another fry. If he sat here too long, he'd have another beer, and he had to work tomorrow.

"Are you Beecher?"

Stabler turned instantly. Beecher did too. "That's me."

"I'm Levinson's partner." The cop put his hands on his hips. "Well, ex-partner."

Stabler nearly got up, but his instincts told him that this wasn't going to go bad. Beecher slid off the barstool. "And?"

"I wanted to thank you for not pressing charges." The cop stuck out his hand. "He didn't need that."

Beecher nodded and shook the guy's hand. "No problem. He doesn't hit all that hard anyway."

"I won't mention that to him."

Stabler relaxed. Beecher went back to his food without getting shot, but this wasn't the best place for him to be hanging out. Stabler fiddled with an empty bottle. He didn't know what to say.

"Considering I'm a faggot skel, that went pretty well." Beecher ate quickly. He was either hungry or scared. "My arteries are going to hate me for all this grease."

"You ain't no faggot skel. Shut up with that shit." Stabler smacked the back of Beecher's head. "One more time and I'm going to hurt you."

"Might be interesting to watch you try," Beecher growled at him. Stabler grabbed a handful of fries and started chewing on them. He could rip Beecher to shreds in a fair fight, no canes or shanks allowed. Beecher pushed his plate away and drank his coke. "Okay. I'm done. I'm going home."

Stabler got up lazily. "I guess I could go with you."

"You probably should, not that I give a fuck." Beecher had this belligerent look on his face that Stabler didn't like at all.

"Hey. I get it. We're not friends, and you can stuff the attitude up your ass!"

"Fuck you, prick!" Beecher started for the door.

Stabler grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him. More eyes than he could count were on them, but the only ones he saw were sky blue. "I will smack you back to Oz before I take that shit!"

Beecher laughed in Stabler's face. "I'm not scared of that!"

"You oughta be." Stabler's temper had control, not his good sense. He loomed over Beecher and shoved a finger in his chest. "Get your lawyer ass out of here before I toss you in a holding cell."

"I'm going. I'm going." Beecher pushed his hair back. "Fucker."

Stabler propelled him towards the door and went back for another beer. Or two. This time he sat with some guys that were laughing about their bitch wives.

"You don't get along too well with your roommate."

Stabler shrugged. "He has a plasma TV, so who the hell cares?"

********

Toby leaned against the side of the building and waited. It was nearly ten. Stabler would be out soon. It was time to get a cab. Toby flagged one down and paid him to wait. The cabbie thought he was an idiot, but that was fine.

"There he is." Toby saw Stabler spot the cab. Stabler wasn't walking all that straight, but he made it inside. His eyes focused on Toby immediately, and he slammed the car door. The driver had the directions. Toby didn't say a word. He let Stabler fume. The cabbie dropped them off, and Stabler fumbled for his wallet. Toby paid the driver. He made sure to stay behind Stabler on the way up the stairs. For a big guy, he couldn't hold his beer worth shit.

Stabler's eyes looked mean, but he didn't say anything until the door was locked. "You waited for me?"

"Yep." Toby pointed at Stabler's waist. "Go lock your gun up. I'm nervous enough."

"Too bad." Stabler belched and about knocked Toby down. "You were giving me shit in front of the guys!"

"And none of them will ever think we're lovers, even though I'm a fag." Toby checked his watch, ten thirty, he was fine, but Stabler must have seen it.

"You're late. What makes you think I won't call Johnson?"

"Be my fucking guest." Toby went to get bottled water. Those fries had been salty.

Stabler glared at him, tossed his coat, and sank down on the couch. "He gave you more time."

"Until eleven." Toby sat down in his chair. He had to say something that would take the temper out of Stabler, and an apology wouldn't kill him. "Sorry I've been such a pain in your ass lately."

"You have been. It's like living with my wife." Stabler groaned and rubbed his face. "Exactly like living with Kathy. I didn't get sex then either!"

Toby thought that was pretty funny. "I had a chance to get laid tonight."

"And?"

"He was too pretty," Toby lied. "Why don't girls ever hit on me?"

"You wait for girls to hit on you? Shit. You are never going to have a date again!" Stabler began laughing. The angry drunk had turned into a happy one. He was having a great time. Toby wanted to throw something at him, like a fist.

"Where's my cane?" Toby muttered.

"I will kick your ass if you even move for it." Stabler pointed a finger at him. "My nuts still ache!"

"Pussy." Toby laughed now. "We did that for fun in Oz."

"Bunch of freaks." Stabler adjusted his package. "I hope to Christ that you are over this skel and cop shit."

"It's the truth. You know it. We shouldn't like each other, and why we do is one of the great mysteries of the world." Toby shrugged. He didn't understand, but they were going to be friends, whether it was smart or not. "If you had one brain cell working, you would pack your shit and leave."

"Don't you think I know that?" Stabler was suddenly up, grabbed two fistfuls of Toby's shirt, and put him on his feet. Toby swallowed hard. He'd forgotten the violence that Chris could do, and Stabler had the same equipment. Stabler shook him, but not hard. "I don't want to leave, and it messes with my brain about once a day."

Toby heard the honest hurt and confusion. It touched him deeply. He could smell him; almost taste him. His cock got hard, he nearly moaned from desire, and his eyes were full of Stabler. Nothing else. "Elliot, turn me loose. Please."

Stabler released him with a slight shove. "I drank too much."

"Come on. I'll pour you into bed." Toby didn't reach for him. That would be a mistake. "Things will look worse tomorrow, I promise."

"Your sense of humor is twisted." Stabler yawned.

"Just like me." Toby pointed at Stabler's room. "Sleep. Groan. Work."

Stabler got moving, losing clothes and stuff along the way. When he unclipped his gun, Toby prayed he didn't drop it. He didn't. He locked it away in his small safe. Toby was reassured by that. Stabler hadn't had all that much to drink. Toby left him then and didn't linger or look back or drool or throw himself at him and suck on him. None of the things he wanted to do.

"Hey! Wait!" Stabler's voice carried easily. Toby edged back to the doorway and nearly cupped his hands over his groin. Stabler was in his briefs, nothing else. Damn. The man was hot. "Are you going to be okay tonight?"

"Sure." Toby tried very hard to stare at Stabler's face and not any lower. God. Damn. It. "You'll sleep like a rock."

"But you won't." Stabler collapsed. Sprawled. He looked like heaven. There was none of the inborn arrogance of Chris about him. "I should've skipped the last six."

"Probably." Toby turned completely around, shut off the light, and left him. Stabler would sleep all night. Even drunk, he'd asked about Toby's welfare. The guy was too good to be true. Toby went to stare out the window until his erection faded away. He should have fucked that guy at Starbucks. It was hell being 'friends' with Stabler. It was also the best thing in his life besides his children. Stabler had saved Toby's ass again over at the station house. Toby was racking up quite a debt there. Stabler wouldn't see it that way, but it was true.

"Life is never fucking easy," Toby stated the obvious, and for once, Chris was silent. It should have been easy in Oz, three squares and a cot. Right. Fuck that. Out here was easier, and harder. Much harder. Of course, dying in Oz was easier. He rubbed a hand along his jaw and smiled ruefully. Staying away from cops had seemed like a good idea.

********

Stabler woke up when his bladder threatened to explode. All that beer had to get out. He stumbled to the bathroom and braced his hand against the wall. Damn. Too much beer. He shook off, quivered, and opened the medicine cabinet. He'd take some Tylenol now and maybe his brain wouldn't hurt so badly in the morning. The pills went down, and he leaned against the door. More sleep would help. Beecher's door was shut, and why he even noticed made him worry. Beecher slept with the door open and the light on. Tonight, the door was shut and the light off. What the hell? Stabler looked over at the couch. It was empty. He managed to walk quietly to the door and open it. There was a lump in the bed. Thank God.

"Touch me and I'll shank you."

Stabler was groggy enough that he wondered whether Beecher was awake. "I was afraid you were gone."

"I'm here. Awake. Go sleep."

Stabler didn't listen to that. He made it to the bed, sat down, and said, "Why?"

"I didn't want to sleep." Beecher scooted away. "I was afraid I'd wake you up."

"Bullshit. You were afraid of Schillinger." Stabler rubbed his head. He turned on the small lamp by the bed. "I don't get the light thing."

"Oz was never completely dark unless you were in the hole. There was always some light. I can't sleep in the dark. I wake up, and I don't know where I am." Beecher's bruises stood out even in the dim light. Stabler nodded as if he understood. He didn't. Nothing about this made any sense. He wanted to sleep in here. Years of sleeping with a body next to him made it almost impossible for him to sleep alone. Maybe the light thing wasn't so crazy after all. He didn't have any right to push himself on his friend. He shouldn't. It was wrong. Beecher was confused enough. He was weak. Stabler looked at him again. Beecher wasn't all that weak.

"Look. I know this is wrong, but can I sleep here?" Stabler waited for the laughter and scorn. "I hate sleeping alone."

Beecher was silent, and the expression on his face was unreadable. "I can't sleep with a hard on and believe me; I'm going to have one. Wait. Too late. Yes. There it is."

Stabler knew he should leave. His religion and upbringing demanded it. He wasn't gay, and he never would be. There was no physical attraction here. Beecher sat up and took him by the arm. It surprised him.

"You don't want to be friends, not any longer." Stabler felt like a freak, talking like that, but he had to know if it was true.

"That's because we're not just friends. We're more." Beecher was serious. "One kiss. One and you'll know."

"Know what?" Stabler didn't know what he was doing. He'd been talking about friends, and now Beecher wanted to kiss him.

"You'll know if there is something between us beyond friends, straight or gay. Two men, yes, but also a connection. It doesn't make sense, but it happens." Beecher didn't pull. He squeezed gently. "One kiss."

"And if it's awful, you'll forget all about this?" Stabler had a hard time believing that Beecher would turn it loose. Beecher had to get over it and just be friends. He had to.

"We both will. It's the not knowing that's driving me crazy," Beecher said softly.

"I thought you were easy." Stabler had to make a joke.

Beecher smiled. "Yes, but I'm also picky." He waited. He didn't yank. Stabler wavered, and that waver meant he was lost. He had never kissed a man, and he had no idea how to kiss a man. Beecher came into Stabler's arms as easy as breathing, and they kissed. Stabler prayed for revulsion to wash over him. He prayed that he'd have to run to puke, and the deep sense of fulfillment that swept over him wasn't welcome. Beecher pulled him down, and Stabler went willingly. Their bodies wrapped together, and he felt nothing but a desire for more. More. Harder.

"Oh, damn," Beecher breathed. Stabler wanted to slap him, beat him, kick him to death, and hold him forever. Gasping for air, Stabler jerked away and left the bed. He fumbled his way to his room, slammed the door hard, and locked it. His body trembled as he curled up under the covers. He'd been divorced one day and he'd kissed a man. He was going straight to hell.

********

Toby nearly dashed after him and tackled him. Please. Don't. Go. He reached, bit back a soft whimper, and flinched hard when Stabler's door slammed shut. His soul ached from the swell of love that had come over him during the kiss and the severity of the rejection. It might have been good for him, but Stabler had hated it.

_"You pushed him too hard," Chris said with a shrug._

"So fucking close," Toby whispered. He got out of bed and dressed in old jeans and a shirt that said nothing. Softly, he padded out to the front room and stared out at the park. There were two more hours before he could leave. His cock ached to spill out, and he gripped his hair and pulled. Squatting down, he rocked and waited for morning. They'd turn the lights on eventually. They always did, and until then, he would try not to listen to Chris.

********

Stabler groaned twice on his way to the shower. His head pounded like a jackhammer, and he didn't want to get up. Munch was going to laugh his head off, and Cragen would frown and roll his eyes. The water helped clear away the fog, but he needed coffee, lots of it. There was a pot, and he drank a full cup before he noticed the lack of his roommate. Beecher was gone, but he went running early.

"Damn!" Stabler nearly dropped his cup as the entire events of the night slammed into him. He'd kissed him! On the lips! And the worst of it was, he'd liked it. Hell, he'd wanted to pound Beecher into-. He wrenched his mind away from that. No. No. No. Damn it! No. He put his head in his hands and prayed for some kind of guidance.

********

Toby stretched for longer than usual. He was not going to run himself into the ground again. That had been stupid. His ribs ached, but wouldn't slow him down. He looked at his watch and set out on the path. Forcing his mind not to think about Stabler wasn't easy, but he'd succeed. After his run, he was going to Oz, and if that didn't snap him out of it, nothing would.

********

Stabler wore his sunglasses into the squad room, sat down gingerly at his desk, and picked up his messages. He didn't want to talk or think, especially think.

"You're alive," Benson whispered.

"Barely." Stabler didn't look at her. She'd smirk. Women always did. He tossed the messages. Nothing life or death. "Where's the captain?"

"He had a meeting with the brass." Benson smiled at him. "Rumor has it that you and Beecher went a round or two at the bar last night."

"Is someone jamming him up with his parole officer?" Stabler rubbed his temples.

"No. It's all hush hush." Benson chuckled softly. "Tell me what happened."

"He showed up, ate dinner, got mouthy, and I threw him out." Stabler gave the version that didn't include them kissing passionately. He wanted to scrub his brain. "I had some more beer and then caught a cab home."

Benson smirked. She did. "Men are somewhere between stupid and brainless."

"Yes." Stabler couldn't argue that, not right now. "I think he earned some respect."

"He did. Not many guys stand up to you." Benson's smirk grew bigger. "It was all a show."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Beecher ain't easy to figure out."" Stabler wasn't so sure. Beecher had wanted to convince the other cops that they weren't friends and therefore not lovers. On the other hand, Beecher loved to give him shit. Stabler rubbed his lips, thrust it all away, and focused on the paperwork he had to finish up and file away. Some day they'd put everything on computers, but not any time soon.

********

Toby dressed in a casual suit, no tie, and made sure he had plenty of money. It might come in handy. He would be gone most of the day, but he was going. It took a cab, the subway, a train, and another cab, but he found himself the one place he didn't want to be - Oz. It looked the same. He listened closely for Chris but heard nothing as he went through the front doors. Mineo was working the desk with the same bored look he'd had on his face for years.

"Hey, Mineo."

"Well, Beecher. Did you miss the food?"

"Yeah. The chicken nuggets are great." Toby signed in and emptied his pockets. He stepped through the metal detector, no going back now. Mineo handed him everything but his keys.

"Pick them up on the way out."

"Sure." Toby nearly jumped when he heard a horn sound. Time for lunch. He wasn't going. The hallways were full of men going one way or the other and several stop to stare at him. He smoothed his hair down and waited for a guy with lots of tattoos to leave her office. When he stepped through the door, her jaw dropped.

"Tobias!"

"Yeah." Toby blushed and shut the door. He hugged her tightly and was surprised that the anger was truly gone. "How are you?"

She smiled at him. "You're my guardian angel."

"Excuse me?" Toby didn't get that at all. "Me?"

Sister Pete nodded. "Let's go to the lounge. We can talk."

"Well, okay." Toby wasn't going to argue. He followed her through the hallways to the lounge. He'd never been there before. It wasn't much. She got them each a cup of coffee and sat right next to him at the table. A CO came in the room and gave him a look. Toby tried not to look guilty, even though he felt it. "I'm not sure about this."

She smiled again. "Why did you come?"

"You haven't answered my emails. I was worried." Toby told the truth. "It took me years to forgive you, and now, I don't want to lose you again."

Sister Pete's eyes sparkled. "I'm glad to hear that. There was a time I thought you'd never forgive me for doing what I thought was right."

Toby didn't want to talk about it. It had festered too long, but the wound was healed now, and he wanted to forget it. "Tell me how you are."

"I'm doing well. I finally have money to pay people to help run the programs that I always wanted to implement. Thanks to you." Sister Pete patted his hand. "They tried to take it away from me, but your lawyer fixed that."

"Angus." Toby nodded. He'd helped, a little. "We weren't going to allow that."

"You and your brother do good work." Sister Pete lowered her voice. "Tell me how you are."

"Okay." Toby touched his face. He knew he looked awful, and she wanted an explanation. "I had a run in with a cop."

"Toby."

"I know." Toby raised his hand. "I was dropping off some paperwork at the precinct and this cop grabs me and starts beating on me. Luckily, they got it on tape. It saved me a trip out here."

She nodded. Her face was serious now. "Why was he angry?"

"He said I was a faggot." Toby rolled his eyes. "It was stupid. The guy was drunk. I just have bad luck."

"Are you suing?"

"Is that greed I hear?" Toby laughed softly. She laughed with him. He shook his head. "I didn't press charges. Last thing I need is a bunch of angry cops. Give me all the gossip, before I write a check."

"What for?" Her eyes were sharp.

"Gossip first." Toby leaned closer. "Start with Alvarez."

********

Stabler winced when he had to go outside. Damn. It was still bright. He fumbled in his pocket for his sunglasses.

"Better?"

"You can shut up." Stabler smiled charmingly at her. "You drive."

"I agree. You may still be over the limit." She laughed and took the keys. "What's Toby doing today?"

"How the hell can I know?" Stabler was irritated at the question. He couldn't think about him, not yet.

"Touchy." Benson got the car moving. "We might be able to use him on this one."

"We'll see. You can call him if we do." Stabler leaned his head back and refused to think or feel or worry.

********

Toby wrote the check with a steady hand. He was proud of that. Coming here made him crazier than usual. "Don't spend it all in one place."

"I'll get a new computer. I promise. I never thought of it." Sister Pete tucked the check away quickly. "And I'll answer my email."

"Get a laptop with satellite internet." Toby pointed his finger at her. "Please don't make me buy one and deliver it."

"I know it's hard for you to come here."

"Hard doesn't begin to cover it. If they brought me in wearing orange, I'd be fine, but just walking inside? It almost too much to bear." Toby sighed. "My parole officer is keeping close tabs on me lately. I have to start back."

"Thank you, Toby." Sister Pete kissed him on the cheek. "You're a good man."

Toby couldn't believe that. His phone chimed, and he said, "Mind if I get it?"

"No." Sister Pete waved. "Take care, Tobias."

"You too, Sister Pete." Toby flipped it open. "Beecher."

"How cute," Benson said. "You sound like my partner."

"Who is this?" Toby messed with her. "I didn't order any hookers for tonight."

"Now you're talking mean. Where are you?"

Toby hesitated a long time. It wasn't in his best interests to be honest. "Does it matter?"

"We could use your help at a crime scene." She paused. "Are you in trouble?"

"No. I'm out at Oz." He tore the phone from his ear. She'd had him on speaker, damn it. He went ahead and hung up. Stabler could yell at her, not him. Toby got moving towards the exit. He could leave. He could. Mineo gave him his keys back and signed him out. He let out a long sigh of relief.

"Hey, rich boy, why don't you buy us some shank proof vests?" Mineo cracked. "All that beautiful money is going to waste on fucking convicts!"

Toby turned on his heel. The insults, he ignored. "What kind of vests?"

"Shank proof." Mineo dug in a drawer and tossed him a catalog. "It's all about rehabilitation to you liberals. The rest of us just want to go home at the end of the day!"

Toby scooped up the catalog. He opened it. "Show me."

Mineo smirked and turned the page. "There."

"Hey, wait a minute! You guys already have these. Are you trying to jerk me around?" Toby remembered the news conference. Who wouldn't? Hughes had been a crappy shot.

"Attica got them. We got fucked up the ass, again!"

Toby was glad to hear that it wasn't just him that had gotten screwed in this damn place. "I'll think about it."

"Right." Mineo laughed. "Come back in orange next time."

"I might." Toby called a cab, waited impatiently, and didn't breathe deeply until he was on the train. At that point, his phone rang again. "I'm not talking to you."

"What the hell are you doing?"

Toby shut the phone again. Stabler was still yelling. Toby turned his phone off until he was on the subway. When he did turn it on, it immediately rang. "What?"

"Where are you?" Stabler was one decibel from yelling.

"On the subway. Another twenty minutes and I can catch a cab. Where do you want me to be?"

"Eighty-Seventh Street by the old theatre. You know it?"

"Yes." Toby hung up on him before he started really yelling again. It was nearly forty minutes later that he got out of the cab and paid the driver. This was a terrible neighborhood, and he was dressed to be mugged. Where the hell was Stabler?

Stabler came out of a run-down apartment building and waved him over. "You're a damn idiot!"

Toby recoiled at the harsh, but deserved, words. "And?"

"Get your ass in here." Stabler took hold of him and marched him inside the building. Toby wished for a shank, just a small one, to stick him in the ribs, not deep. He did manage to get his arm away before the other cops saw him and laughed. Stabler hissed, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Toby had never been so glad to see Benson. She looked rational. Stabler needed his gun taken away from him before he shot someone. Toby smiled at her. "What's going on?"

She handed him a pair of gloves. "Put these on and don't touch anything."

"Okay." Toby put them on and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Stabler was still grumbling and growling. Toby didn't look at him straight on. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?"

Stabler pointed through an open door. "Yes. I hope you skipped lunch. We'll wait here."

Toby hoped he didn't puke. He went tentatively through the door and stopped in shock. This was brutal. This was wrong. It was a good thing he had missed lunch or he'd be losing it on their crime scene. He looked everything over carefully before going back out. Looking only at Benson, he said, "Yep. He's dead."

"You know him?" Benson asked.

"Smartass," Stabler grumbled.

"Yes." Toby wasn't sure he wanted to admit it. "Did you I.D. him?"

"His fingers are gone." Stabler still had on his sunglasses, and he was on a tear. "Tell us!"

"That's James Robson, a Nazi prag from Oz, HIV positive, and I thought he was still there." Toby tried to feel some shock, but Robson had always been headed for a bad ending.

"Guess you were wrong." Stabler let the forensics team at the scene. "Any idea who might have shot him?"

"I can make a few calls. You should have told me while I was out there." Toby sighed. He was mixed up in another case, and this one could bite him in the ass. The thought of explaining certain things to Stabler made him cringe.

"We didn't know who he was!" Stabler again, still yelling.

"Oh yeah." Toby snapped off his gloves and got out of the horrible apartment. "Sorry."

Stabler walked with him a short distance. "Do you think it was rape or consensual?"

Toby blinked in surprise at the question. "A prag consents to being raped. Robson loved being a Nazi so much that when they threw him out he begged them to let him be a prag. Of course they took him up on it. Stupid fucker."

"No one deserves to die like that," Stabler ground out.

"He probably did." Toby took a step back. He didn't like the look on Stabler's face. "Settle down. Let me get the file I made on him. You can look at his rap sheet and make your own decision."

"Thanks," Stabler said sarcastically. "I have to stay here."

"I will get a cab," Toby said firmly. He wasn't listening to anything else. "Benson, can I use your computer?"

"Sure. Until I get back." She went back in the room. Stabler followed her, and Toby fled the building. Damn. That had been brutal. Why had they chained him by one foot to the bed? And who were they? Toby stopped at his apartment, grabbed his laptop, and went to the police station. He clipped on his badge and tried not to look nervous, but he was. No one gave him a look, and he sat down at Benson's desk with a small sigh of relief.

"Did you go to the crime scene?"

Toby turned in the chair to face the captain. "Yes. Stabler and Benson are still there. I didn't see Munch or Fin."

"They're canvassing." Cragen stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Were you the one who got Stabler home last night?"

"I got him a cab." Toby shrugged. "He wasn't drunk."

"He's under a lot of pressure." Cragen frowned at him. "Rumor is that you and him exchanged some harsh words. He doesn't need that right now."

"I'll stay out of his face. You have my word." Toby stood up. "Stabler wanted me to pull the file on the victim."

Cragen nodded. "I'll get you into the system."

Toby watched him plug in passwords and thought about Stabler. Stabler was having a rough day, and Toby was going to stay far away from him. It was the smart choice. They'd kissed. Stabler had hated it. It was time to get over him. He had to get over him.

********

Stabler knew he was acting like an asshole, but it was damn hard to stop now that he'd gotten up a full head of steam.

"Take more Tylenol," Benson said as she pulled away from the curb. "I don't think we're going to clear this case without putting in some hours."

He held out his hand, she dug them out of her purse and dropped four on his palm. Swallowing, he chased them with the last of his coffee. "I'd apologize, but I'm not through yelling."

"Who am I to stop you?" Benson laughed softly. "At least we know who he was. It's a start."

Stabler shrugged. He had too many things bouncing around in his brain and none of them were good. "Maybe the canvas will turn up something."

"Bad neighborhood." Benson stopped for a light. "Abandoned apartment, shots fired, dead guy, and no call to nine one one. The only reason we were even called was because of the stink."

"How long do you think he'd been there?" Stabler had his own guess, but he wanted to hear hers.

"Couple of days, at least." Benson gunned it. "The ME will have her work cut out for her."

"She can join the club." Stabler leaned his head back and tried to stop the madness going on behind his aching eyeballs.

********

Toby printed all the information and made a file. He read the latest carefully. Robson had gotten a pity parole from the governor. The fucker always gave out a few around Christmas time. Why the hell he'd picked Robson was a mystery, but stranger things had happened. Of course, booting out someone with HIV did save the state a sizeable amount of money. Robson hadn't converted, not as of his last medical exam from Dr. Nathan. No one had felt sorry for the stupid Nazi fucker. Toby would admit to himself that he didn't feel anything at all, except worry that Stabler would uncover some facts that should remain hidden.

Toby made a list of known associates from Oz and sincerely hoped that the ME would gloss over the fact that Robson didn't have part of his dick. In a stroke of luck, Robson's file from Oz mentioned the incident but didn't blame Toby. If Stabler knew about that, he'd move out instantly, forget the lure of the plasma TV.

_"I thought you were over him?"_

"Shut up, Chris," Toby whispered. He didn't need that smart ass shit right now.

Stabler and Benson made plenty of noise hanging up their coats, and Toby got out of Benson's chair. She winked at him, and he handed her the file. Stabler growled something, but Toby ignored it, taking his laptop to another deserted desk. Toby didn't say anything as they talked about the case, Robson, Oz, Nazis, and Stabler's headache.

Munch and Fin came through, and they kept it short. No one had seen anything, heard anything, or gave a damn about anything. That made it easy.

"Hey, Beech."

"Hey, Munch." Toby had tried hard not to like Munch, but it was impossible not to. "I scored tickets to the game. Would you like to go?"

"With you? Madison Square Garden?" Munch took off his shades. "Where are the seats?"

"Center court. Angus said they're pretty good seats. He couldn't go. Had to do lawyer stuff." Toby nearly smiled. Munch was going. Toby continued, "My curfew is later now."

"Limo?"

"Sorry. Cab." Toby smiled slightly. "No bars or naked girls."

"I'll make sure they have some clothes on." Munch nodded. "Sounds good."

The back of Toby's neck prickled, and he shot a look at Stabler. Stabler looked just like Chris on a very bad day. It made Toby's palms sweat. Cragen was suddenly in everyone's face, and Toby got out of the way. Munch and Fin were put on the trail of Robson's known associates. They'd probably end up in Oz. Stabler and Benson had to get with the ME, and Toby hoped he got to go home.

"Beecher, get with Huang and profile our perp." Cragen turned to him last. "I want this one cleared without any OT."

Stabler looked at his watch. "It's nearly five now!"

Cragen nodded. "Start again in the morning. No overtime."

Toby saw Stabler's frustration clearly. Benson chimed in, "Dead HIV positive Nazis aren't high on the priority list?"

Cragen shrugged. "We have three days to the end of the month. No more overtime until then."

"Money makes the world go around," Munch quoted. Toby went to his laptop and pulled out his cell phone. He'd get with Huang. After all, he didn't get overtime.

*********

"Say that one more time." Stabler controlled the urge to cover his groin. "Wait. Don't. Once was enough."

Benson, to her credit, didn't laugh at him. "Any fluids?"

"No. He was sodomized with the gun, before it was fired."

Stabler clenched his jaw. "How long had he been chained to the bed?"

"Not long, some bruising, but no scarring." The ME frowned. "I'm hoping to get a fingerprint off him."

Stabler hoped so also. "Anything that can help us?"

"You'll get a complete report by tomorrow." She went back to work on the body.

Benson and Stabler went out to the hallway. "Not much help."

"Not yet," Benson said. "We'll hit it hard tomorrow."

Stabler didn't say anything until they were back at their desk. Huang and Beecher were taking up space, but Munch and Fin were already gone. "What if the guy who, um, well, you know, came back for more."

Benson furrowed her brow. "What?"

Stabler leaned back in his chair. He didn't think he could get all those words out again.

"Beecher, you knew Robson?"

Beecher glanced over at him. "Sure." That was it. Nothing else and he didn't look inclined to say more.

Huang got to his feet. "This was done in pure anger. His attacker was someone he knew."

"Probably white." Beecher shut his laptop. "Here." He grabbed two sheets of paper out of the printer and dropped them on their respective desks. "Dr. Huang's preliminary profile."

"Is that the lawyer in you?" Stabler let the sarcasm flow.

Beecher ignored that. "I'll be over there." He grabbed his stuff and headed for the captain's office. Stabler narrowed his eyes. What the hell was going on?

"I'm going home. Nothing more we can do today." Benson got her coat. "Later."

Stabler didn't move. Huang came over to him. "This kind of case won't be solved in three hours. Tomorrow, you'll have more information."

Stabler tucked the profile away. He'd take the file home and read it. There was always a chance that Munch and Fin would get lucky. He got his coat and hesitated. Should he take Beecher home? It would be polite, but he didn't feel polite, not at all. If they were friends, he should wait. His total indecision was solved for him. Beecher came out of the captain's office, walked past him without a word, and disappeared down the hallway. Stabler tried to not to care one damn bit, but it was a lie. He'd kissed that man, and that man that had just let him know exactly where he stood, nowhere.

********

Toby caught a cab and headed home. He was tired. No sleep had finally caught up with him. Walking past Stabler had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done, but Stabler knew the score now. He didn't want Toby. Well, Toby didn't want him. Fuck him. Toby dug out some money, paid the cabbie, and went upstairs. He put everything down and found some comfortable clothes. Going to the fridge, he looked for something quick. All he had was some TV dinners, so he started the oven. It was better than nothing, and that's what he'd had since breakfast. Sister Pete had looked good, and he was glad he'd gone to Oz, even though it had nearly made him insane to do it. Chris lingered around every corner, and Vern was around the ones that Chris skipped.

Opening his briefcase, he took out the catalog again and flipped through it. Cragen had promised to look into the vests. Toby wasn't going to buy them if they didn't work. He heard Stabler at the door long before it slammed. Stabler was a real bitch today, but Toby liked living too much to mention it.

"Tell me what the hell you were thinking going out to Oz!"

Toby looked at him calmly. "Fuck off, Stabler. I'm not your prag."

Stabler's hand went to his gun. Toby yawned. Stabler yanked it off and went to his bedroom. When he came out, he was in jeans, a sweatshirt, and he growled, "Now I won't shoot you."

"I'm so fucking relieved." Toby put the TV dinners in the oven. "Food in thirty minutes."

"I think you are my prag." Stabler seemed pretty happy with that bitchy comment.

Toby yanked a drawer open and pulled out a knife. He put it right above the catalog. "Say that again, prick, and I'll stick you."

Stabler stalked over to him. "You wouldn't. Again, why Oz?"

"I wanted to see Sister Pete." Toby picked up the knife and slowly sliced along his palm, not deep enough to cut. "She didn't answer my emails. I was concerned."

Stabler took the knife, put it away, and slammed the drawer. He'd slammed about everything in sight today. "Use the phone."

"Stabler, you should shut up more." Toby turned the page. He wasn't worried about all this anger. Stabler was mad they'd kissed. He'd get over it in a year or two. "Damn, look at that nightstick. That brings back all sorts of bad memories."

Stabler paced away and came back to him. "My wife hated it when I was angry. Why aren't you intimidated?"

"Oh, come on. I lived in a six by nine with a sociopath, a Nazi, a biker, and a guy who killed his children. You're nothing but a Marine cop who likes to help people." Toby looked closely at the tazers. The CO's at Oz were starting to carry those when he left. He'd been lucky never to get hit with one. It could knock a man on his ass.

"He killed his children?"

"Chopped them up and put them in the freezer." Toby went back to the front of the catalog. "Don't fret. They threw him off the top of the cellblock. The good news was he couldn't fly."

"What did the CO's do about it?" Stabler seemed stunned.

"Funny. Took them awhile to notice." Toby smirked at him. "Intimidation won't work with me. Try kindness. I fold like a shirt."

Stabler went from anger to furious that fast. Toby saw it on that stubborn face. In another minute, it would be time to worry. He saw Stabler take a deep breath. "Please, Toby, tell me when you're going to Oz."

"If you want." Toby gave him a real smile. "You have remarkable control. I fully expected you to hit me."

"But you weren't scared."

"Shit no. You'd apologize, after I woke up." Toby went back to studying the vests. "Now that you're calm, the rent is due tomorrow."

Stabler rubbed his face and went to stare out the window. He took several more deep breaths. "You could have been shanked."

"I know." Toby wasn't sure why Stabler was mentioning it. "Nearly every member of my family has been shanked at Oz. I know the risk. Let's not talk about it."

Stabler must have agreed because he started watching TV. Toby stuffed the catalog in a drawer. He'd make up his mind when he had more information. He stared at the back of Stabler's head for a few minutes. Stabler put that old tired saying about mules to shame. The buzzer went off, and Toby pulled out the food and got two forks. He said nothing to Stabler, but he wandered over.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Toby ignored him and ate. It wasn't good food, but it was food, and as tired as he was, he needed a full stomach to sleep. "Still have a hangover?"

"Nah. I'm just pissed." Stabler gave him a mean look.

Toby knew why, and it was time to make his position clear. "Look. No big deal. You didn't like it. We're done. I will leave you the fuck alone. You have my word."

"What are you talking about?" Stabler managed to look angrier.

"The kiss. What else?" Toby shrugged. He didn't want to talk about how humiliating it had been or how nice.

"I was talking about you going to Oz, taking a chance that your kids would have no father, and then making me wait at a crime scene for nearly an hour!" Stabler slammed his hand down on the cabinet. "But now that you mentioned it. You're right! No big deal."

Toby felt like slinking off. No wonder Stabler's wife hadn't liked it when he got angry. He didn't get over it quickly. It simmered inside him. Toby considered his course of action: ignore it or fight back. Either way, he could end up with a sore face. "I was careful at Oz. There was nothing I could do about your crime scene. You could have shown me pictures. That was your decision, Detective, and the rest of it is better off forgotten. You were drunk."

"Right." What Stabler was agreeing to, Toby had no idea. Stabler wasn't finished. "And one last thing: you're taking Munch to the game?"

Toby drank some water before answering, "Yes. I have three tickets, but I'm not inviting my jackass of a roommate. Not now."

Stabler glared. "You make me want to throw things out the window."

"Okay, I'm out of here." Toby threw the tray away and put his fork in the dishwasher. He needed sleep, but he had to get away from here. "Later."

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Cute guy at Starbucks." Toby flashed Stabler a quick grin. "If you're going to be sleeping with me later, I have to get my rocks off now." And he made it out the door before Stabler's stunned expression turned to fury.

Toby stopped at Maria's and checked on the family. The rent was due. She knew it, and she had some of it. It was enough. The baby was expensive, and Toby didn't worry about it. After kissing little Maria and promising her cookies, he headed down to the street. There was a bookstore not far, and he was going there, not Starbucks. He found a book to browse through and bought some coffee. His mind wasn't on the book. It was on Robson. Poor fucker was very dead. Robson had been a sadistic bastard, but that was a harsh way to die. Toby shivered. They'd never catch who had done it. There wasn't enough to go on, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Robson had earned his way to that apartment.

"I've read that. It's pretty good."

Toby looked up and shut the book that he was staring at mindlessly. "Really?"

"Yes, but have you read the first one?"

"No. Why don't you show me?" Toby picked up his coffee and trailed after his new friend. He simply had to get laid.

********

Stabler took a shower and tried very hard not to think about anything. Not his wife, ex, or his roommate, crazy, or his job, ugly, or his life, what the hell was he doing? He banged his fist into the tiles. He got out, dried off, and found some sweats. Full and clean, he was tired, and he went to bed. He made sure his gun was secure and shut his door. Tonight, he was sleeping alone, all night, even if he'd rather not, but he wasn't going to think about that either.

********

Toby unlocked the door and was reassured by the darkness. "Come on in."

"Nice place."

"It's small, but I like it." Toby didn't talk loudly. Stabler's door was shut, and he needed his rest after the crappy day he'd had, which wasn't Toby's fault.

"Nice view."

Toby agreed as he stared at the guy's ass. Nothing wrong with that. He moved in behind him and pressed. "Yeah. Nice."

"Got condoms?"

"Plenty of them." Toby kissed him on the neck and turned him. "You can leave, if you want."

"No."

Toby rubbed his hands up and down. He needed this. Someone to hold him, even if it was only for a minute or two. Someone to drive the loneliness away, just for a split second. He enjoyed the groan he heard. "Good."

"If I let you fuck me, can I move in?"

Toby stopped completely. "What?"

"I need a place to live. My ex-boyfriend wants me out."

Toby sighed. "I have a roommate."

"That big guy that just stared at us?"

"Yeah. Him." Toby rolled his eyes. He was busted. "Okay. Let me get you a cab."

"I can walk."

Toby opened the door back up and locked it behind him. Fuck. It was easier to get laid in prison! He turned on the TV and decided to sleep on the couch. Maybe Vern would stay away. Shit. His balls were going to turn blue and rot off.

_"He wasn't even fucking cute!" Chris leaned against the wall and laughed. "Your standards are dropping, ya little slut."_

Toby grabbed his book and threw it at the wall.

********

Stabler put his arm over his eyes. He could hear the TV now. They were probably fucking on his couch. Damn it. Beecher not only swam both ways but he jumped ships frequently. Hell. They'd kissed last night, and now he was tongue-fucking some blond.

"Damn it." Stabler heard a thump, eased out of bed, and looked again. Beecher met Stabler's eyes instantly. He'd been listening for the door.

"What?" Beecher had his attitude on.

Stabler almost shut the door quietly, but he couldn't resist an insult. "Wondering if I needed to hose you down."

"Fuck off, Stabler." Beecher gave him the finger.

Stabler didn't know whether to jerk him up and hit him or slam the door. Instead, he walked out and sat down to watch television. "I screwed up your date?"

"No." Beecher didn't look at him. "He wanted to move in. Fuck that."

Stabler thought that sounded about right. "I knew you were easy, but a slut?"

Beecher got up. There was a vein popping out on his forehead. That was a bad sign. Stabler remember that vein from when he'd gotten his nuts kicked all over the street.

"Bring it."

Stabler eased to his feet. "I will hurt you. You don't want that."

"We'll see." Beecher was full of rage. "Whatever happens here stays here!"

"It won't. I'll break your nose, and Johnson will want to know why and I'll have to tell him it was because you were bringing men home to bang on my couch. It's gonna be ugly." Stabler watched him closely. "Then Angus will file a civil suit and take what little money I have left, which you'll promptly give to little Maria. So, yeah, bring it."

Beecher put his hands on his hips. "If I disgust you, don't look and don't come dragging your whiny ass in my room. And it's my couch!"

Stabler didn't quite understand that response. "Disgust?"

"Oh, come on. You about puked when we kissed last night. Now you're all high and mighty because I was tonguing some other guy. You don't want me!"

Stabler didn't have any quick answers for all of that shit. He bit the inside of his lip and said, "I never thought you'd bring some guy home."

"We're roommates. That means you look the other way when I have sex!"

"I get it now." Stabler did, and he wasn't sure he liked hearing it. "Okay. Fine. I don't care, not one damn bit, but use a damn condom."

"I thought you didn't care?" Beecher shut off the TV. "You can bring home girls. I'll stay in my room. Remember the college dorm?"

"I didn't go, but I think I can figure it out." Stabler wanted to hit him. "Want me to go get him?"

"Oh, fuck me." Beecher headed for his room, and he didn't look back. Stabler refused to storm after him and slap him around, but it was a close call. Slowly, he slumped down on the couch. That hadn't been disgust. That had been raging, sinful lust. Beecher thought Stabler had hated it. Thank God. It got him off the hook, but it wasn't the truth. The truth wasn't fit for daylight though. He'd lock it away. Hide it along with the fact that if given a choice between Kathy and Beecher, he'd take Beecher.

"Oh yeah," Stabler whispered.

********

Toby groped the bed, looking for his shank. He cursed vividly when he woke up enough to remember that Stabler had convinced him to give them up. Damn that prick! He rolled out of bed, went to kitchen, found a knife, and caressed it. It was enough to help him sleep. Stabler's door was open, which was unusual, and Toby stopped to stare at the lump on the bed.

_"You ain't friends, remember? Shank him."_

"Shut up, Chris." Toby might have spoken a little too loudly because in a blink he was pressed against the door, the knife spinning away. "Motherfuck!"

"Mr. Beecher, you are under arrest."

Toby didn't struggle. He didn't have a chance. He'd have to use his smart mouth to get out of this one. "Okay, but who'll cook for you?"

"I'll find a roommate that's not psychotic!" Stabler was under control, but he was yelling.

"Good luck with that." Toby kept his hands slack. He wanted to find out what was going on in those briefs, but that would be a mistake. "I was checking on you. No big deal."

"And the knife?" Stabler still held him tightly.

"I couldn't sleep!" Toby wanted Stabler to crush him or turn him loose. "Could you, um, pretend I wasn't here?"

Stabler abruptly turned him loose, and he nearly fell to the floor. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? How about you?" Toby found his knife and picked it up. "You should be sleeping!"

Stabler pushed him out the door. "I ain't kissing you. Go to bed."

Toby laughed. "Hey, forget the kissing. How about I rub against you for a minute or two?"

Stabler slammed the door. Toby wished for his smart ass comment back, but it didn't fucking matter. He took his knife to bed and stared up at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

_"He wants you."_

_"Chris, you are such a fucking idiot." Toby sat down on the locker. He hated lockdown. It never ended!_

_"You should have just slept with him instead of trying to kiss him. You're always thinking about yourself." Chris laughed. "You're still a bitch."_

_"Yes. Yes, I am." Toby sighed and slumped. "He needs a kind, supportive friend, not a horny ex-convict."_

_Chris laughed some more and scratched his balls. "Put on that shirt I like and come here."_

_Toby shrugged. It was better than nothing._

*********

Stabler got up early, dressed, and sat on the couch with coffee to read the file. Robson was a piece of shit, but it didn't sit well to let any case slide.

Beecher came out of his room.

Stabler blinked in surprise. "I thought you'd gone already."

"I slept in." Beecher was flipping a knife in the air, and he stuffed it away in a drawer. Stabler was glad to see that, and he turned his attention back to the file. Beecher got a bowl of cereal. Stabler could hear the clink of spoon on bowl. How did he eat that stuff regularly? Beecher seemed like he was in a good mood. It was annoying. "Tell me that you don't need me at the station house."

"I'm sure we won't need you at the house," Stabler said. Cragen might decide differently, but that would be later. "But don't go anywhere I can't get you quickly."

"That's reassuring." Beecher was such a smartass. "I have to work the building today. It's the first of the month."

"Check's in the mail."

Beecher didn't answer. He was eating. Stabler chuckled at his own joke. He'd pay him later. It wasn't as if Beecher kept the money, after all. "I still think we should be looking for the guy who bit Robson's-" Stabler stopped. He couldn't say it. It was a place to start though. A phone call out to Oz would clear up the mystery. This Dr. Nathan would know. After all, how often did someone get their johnson bit off?

"Stabler, what are you thinking?"

Stabler looked over at him. Beecher was an odd shade of white. Well, it was a topic that men should avoid. "Robson had an old injury. Whoever did it might have come back to finish the job."

Beecher shook his head firmly. "I was there. Trust me. You're looking in the wrong direction."

Stabler shrugged. "I'll make a call to Dr. Nathan. I have to start somewhere."

"Elliot, for fuck's sake!" Beecher looked, well, panicked. "Don't do that. Trust me! That's a dead end."

"Okay. I can see it's making you quiver too." Stabler shut the file and got up to put his mug in the sink. "Stay available today."

Beecher didn't answer that. He stared into his cereal bowl. Stabler didn't worry about it. He went to work.

********

Toby stopped eating and couldn't seem to get started again. He could only hope that Dr. Nathan respected some kind of doctor/patient confidentiality. Shit. He couldn't tell him! Oh, what the hell. Things couldn't get any more fucked up between him and Stabler. Toby grabbed his stuff and walked to the park. He'd run and think about all this shit later.

********

"Any leads?"

Stabler looked around the room. No one said anything. Benson shrugged. She was a lot of help. Stabler spoke up. "Maybe they'll get a fingerprint off the body. That's our best hope."

"Pretty slim." Cragen threw up his hands. "Cold case it."

"I want to track down someone from Robson's past that might have a motive to kill him," Stabler said. "And if that doesn't pan out, I'll file it."

"Fine. Moving on."

Stabler half-listened as Cragen sent everyone somewhere on another case. He was going to make a phone call before he put this one away.

********

Toby played landlord after he went for his run, and he did his best not to worry about Stabler or Robson or any combination of the two. By the time lunch came around, he would admit curiosity about whether they'd cleared the case or even tried, so he mustered up his balls and went to find out. The squad room was deserted, but the file was lying open on Stabler's desk. Toby sat down and started looking at it again. There were new reports from the ME and forensics. Basically, it came down to no DNA evidence and no weapon located. They'd looked in the dumpsters, but turned up nothing. The photos of the crime scene were more horrific than being there. It might have been the stark colors, but they had a ghoulishness that made him quiver.

"What are you doing here, Beecher?"

"Just wondered if you guys needed some help." Toby tried to look innocent.

"It's officially a cold case." Cragen came across the room. "If Stabler catches you at his desk, well, you're dead, so to speak."

"Yeah. I know." Toby stood up. "It's hard to believe that after a brutal attack like this, the guy would have the presence of mind to clean up after himself."

"Everyone watches too much TV nowadays. They know how to ruin evidence." Cragen sat down in a free chair. "I checked into those vests. They seem like the real deal."

Toby was surprised to hear it. "I wonder how they work."

"Buy one and test it out." Cragen raised his hand. "Stop. Pretend I didn't say that. Trust the manufacturer. They work."

Toby smiled. Everyone was worried about him shanking someone. "Okay. I'll do some math."

"You could fund a charity event." Cragen smiled. "Raise the money."

"I hate the press worse than I do cops." Toby flipped through the file again. "I'm going to do some poking around on this case. I know these guys. Someone is bragging about it."

"Be careful. You don't carry a gun." Cragen stood up. "Let me know what you find out."

"No charge." Toby studied the photo again.

********

Stabler put his phone away so he didn't squeeze it until it snapped in half. Benson gave him a look.

"Well?"

"It's complicated." Stabler wasn't going to discuss it with her, not yet. "Probably a dead end. Let's work this case, and I'll deal with it after hours."

"Off the clock."

"Right." Stabler clenched his jaw and shoved down more curses than Benson's ears could stand. Why him? Why?

********

Toby made two calls out to Oz and read the report from Munch and Fin. They'd done the interviews. No one had seen anything or knew anything. Right. Like they'd talk to a Jew and a black man. Toby rubbed his face. He wasn't sure why he cared. Robson had been a piece of shit.

"Stabler stopped in the locker room," Benson said as she walked in the squad room.

Toby picked up his stuff fast and beat it over to another desk. He didn't want a smack on the back of the head today. This desk didn't have a computer, but it didn't matter. He had an idea of who he had to track down.

"Beecher. We need to talk." Stabler dropped his coat on his chair and began rolling up his sleeves. Toby licked his suddenly dry lips. That little ritual always made him nervous. He got up, and Stabler led the way to the lounge. Stabler pulled out a chair. "Sit down."

"Oh fuck." Toby shook his head. His stomach instantly began to hurt. "Let me take it standing."

"Sit down!"

Toby sat down. He decided not to talk.

"I need two things from you. An alibi and an apology." Stabler slammed his hand down on the table. "Why the hell do you continue to be a suspect in half the cases that cross my desk?"

"That's an exaggeration." Toby swallowed hard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. "I told you that I was there. It's not relevant to this case!"

"That's the part where I need your alibi!" Stabler stuck his tie inside his shirt. Oh, shit. He got right in Toby's face. "And I'm the detective! I decide what's important!"

"Noted." Toby had read the ME report. "Robson was killed on the day I was harassed by Levinson."

"Where did you go after you met with Kathy's lawyer?" Stabler stayed close, and his anger was almost palpable.

"To the park. I stayed there until you came and got me. You know the rest." Toby had no alibi - again. He couldn't seem to catch a break. "I had no idea that Robson was out. Even if I had contacted him, he'd have killed me!"

"Or you'd have killed him!" Stabler was flexing his hands. That was bad. "Give me a clue as to my next course of action."

"You're the detective." Toby ran his hands through his hair. "I didn't do it. You know that or you should."

Stabler accidentally threw a chair against the wall. "I'll get the captain. You tell him what happened. He can decide."

Toby knew that was the best deal he was going to get. "I was only afraid because you would think less of me, and I don't have any distance to fall."

"You should have trusted me." Stabler shut the door with a bang. Toby felt his chest to make sure his heart was still pumping blood. He never made the right choices. The only thing he could do now was act confused.

Cragen came through the door. His brow was furrowed. "What's this all about, Toby?"

Toby sighed. "I was Robson's cellmate for a very short time. Stabler seems to think that's motive to kill him. Well, actually it's a good point, but I didn't know he was out!"

"You should have come clean with Stabler. He hates lies." Cragen sat down. "You have no alibi, but I believe you. You'd have shanked him, not shot him."

"You're right." Toby slumped. "Tell me exactly how I should have informed Stabler that I was the one who bit Robson's dick off?"

Cragen flinched. "I have no idea. You have a suggestion on this case?"

"Actually, I do. Robson's last cellmate is out, and I think I can track him down." Toby paused. "He might know what was going on."

Cragen got up and nodded. "You and Stabler. Tell him everything and then follow his orders. You're not a cop."

"I know. I'm a skel. It's one guy. If we find him, I'll scurry home." Toby tried to sound reassuring. "But sending a woman, a Jew, and a black guy just isn't worth your time."

"Stay behind Stabler." Cragen pointed to emphasize and went out the door. Stabler came inside immediately. He yanked a chair out, turned it around, sat down, and handed Toby the file. Toby took it and laid out the information he'd discovered.

"You should've told me."

"I couldn't think of a way to bring it up, and I was scared." Toby hated telling a truth that made him sound so weak. "Oh, by the way, Stabler, that guy dead there, I bit his dick off."

"Just the tip," Stabler snapped. "And yes, you should have mentioned it over dinner. Unless you stalked him and bit it off for kicks, I wouldn't have blamed you."

"No, but you'd think I was even more of a freak," Toby whispered. He pointed to a name on a page. "This guy, Steve Peters, he was Robson's last cellmate in the HIV unit. He's out, and it's possible he'll know who Robson was pragging for."

"Where can we find him?"

"He's a biker, which is almost as bad as a Nazi. We'll start at the nearest biker bar to where Robson was killed. It may take a while." Toby put everything back in the file. He wasn't sure he wanted to do this with Stabler. "I can do this alone."

Stabler stood up fast. "I'm starting to lose my temper with you."

"Fine. Let's put on a swastika and hope we get lucky." Toby handed him the file. "And get us a bike."

Stabler opened the door. "We could start bringing people in until we find him."

"I like living." Toby stopped walking when he reached the captain. "Cragen, should we go as cops or Nazis?"

"Go undercover. Stabler, don't argue." Cragen nodded. "You'll come back with less bullet holes in you."

"The game?" Munch asked.

"Shit." Toby threw up his hands. He'd forgotten about that. "I'll send them over. Go with Fin."

"You sure?" Fin asked.

"Yeah. I'd much rather dodge Nazis." Toby smiled. "Oh, I have three tickets, so find someone else."

"I can do that." Munch smiled back at him.

Stabler found his coat. "Let's get started so we can be back before your curfew."

"Just cut my balls off in front of my homies," Toby muttered and started for the door. Stabler was right behind him.

*********

Stabler got a motorcycle from the impound. Beecher had gone on home in a cab. He said he'd get them some tattoos. Great. Stabler signed the paperwork, took the keys, and kicked it over. It had been awhile, but he remembered where the throttle was. He was still angry with Beecher. That hadn't changed. The engine was loud, and it vibrated up his back. Beecher couldn't be trusted when it came to certain topics, like Nazis and Oz. There were too many secrets. Stabler parked the bike in front of the apartment and strode up the stairs.

Beecher was putting a tattoo on the back of his hand. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I wish your alibi was as good as your apology." Stabler went to his room to change into torn up jeans, wife-beater, and his military boots. He tried hard to lock his temper away with his gun. His fists would have to be enough. "Beecher, you leave your knife at home."

"Will do." Beecher came to him. "Tilt your head and hold still."

Stabler held still. "You bit his dick off?" He still couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"He hit me, yanked me off my bunk, hit me again, and demanded a blowjob. He fucking got what he deserved," Toby growled. He still sounded pissed about it. "What would you have done?"

"Beat the shit out of him." Stabler understood it now. It had been the act of a desperate and cornered man, and somehow that made it forgivable. "You can tell me these things. I know prison is hell."

"No. You don't. And I'm glad for that." Beecher pulled off the paper. "Looks good enough."

They were too close, and he wanted to move away. Their eyes met once, and he quickly stared at something else. He got some distance and called Johnson and gave him some sketchy information. They'd be out late. Snapping his phone shut, he put it in his jeans. "Beecher, don't do anything stupid."

"Cragen told me to stay behind you. I intend to do that." Beecher pulled out his wallet, stuffed some money in his pocket, and tossed his cell phone on the couch. "Wallet."

"I have done this before!" Stabler snapped. "You're the one who hasn't!"

Beecher shrugged. "You're right. I'll shut up. Nice boots. They look just like the ones that broke my legs."

Stabler felt as if he were losing control of the situation. "If you're going to weird out on me, stay home."

"Too late." Beecher grinned at him. "Ready?"

"Let's go find him." Stabler put on his old leather jacket. "I don't want to waste a lot of time."

Beecher had on a flannel shirt, a wife-beater, and his leather jacket. "Remind me to skip the beer."

"Will do. Where'd a rich boy like you get those clothes?" Stabler locked the door behind them.

"The store." Beecher laughed at him. "This is going to be fun."

Stabler got on the bike and kicked it over. "No. It isn't. Come on."

********

Toby let his imagination put Chris in front of him for two city blocks. Chris would have loved this. He would have found an excuse to kill someone, but he would have had a great time. Toby wished he didn't miss him. Stabler drove the bike much better than he did a car, and Toby enjoyed the ride, the big engine rumbling underneath him, and the big man in front of him.

Stabler took them to the run-down building where Robson had been found, and then they did a street search. Six blocks over and two down they found what they were looking for. Stabler shut the engine off and said, "Don't do anything stupid."

"You mentioned that." Toby felt an odd sense of excitement, and he was sure Huang would say it was borderline behavior. The bar was dingy, smoky, and filthy. Perfect. Stabler found a spot at the bar and ordered a beer. Toby stayed with him, did his best to ignore the beer, and looked over the crowd, nothing but a bunch of pricks.

"I'm looking for Peters. He been here tonight?" Stabler asked the bartender.

Toby predicted the snarled, "Fuck off." He went to watch some fuckers play pool. Stabler sat at the bar. He would stick with it. The conversation flowed around Toby, and he marveled again at how stupid these men were. Was it the lack of education or good genes? It was a mystery.

"What do you want, punk ass?"

Toby knew he was a punk ass. He was good with that. "I'm looking for a fucker that I did time with at Oz. Robson. He been around?"

The laughter was short. "Dead. Fucker wasn't a real man."

"Somebody's bitch?" Toby knew the answer. It was only a matter of if the guy was here.

"Everybody's bitch." More laughter. "You want to take his place?"

Toby had expected that. He shrugged and wished for a beer. Tasted good and the bottle made a great weapon. "Damn. He owed me money."

"He owed everybody something." A big biker moved in close. "You're pretty."

"He's also mine." Stabler was suddenly between them. "So back off."

Toby felt a jolt of pure lust at the words. He wanted to be Stabler's. It was disgraceful, and Stabler saying that was quite a shock to the system. He'd figured they'd play this as biker buddies, not fuck buddies. Had Stabler lost his mind? Toby ran his hand through his hair, leaned against the wall, and said, "Robson's dead. Sorry."

"Shit." Stabler drank some beer. "I need that money."

Toby watched the crowd. A mixture of bikers and Aryans, and all of them stupid. "We'll have to squeeze it out of Peters. He was there."

"I wonder who that bitch belongs to." Stabler leaned against the wall next to him. Toby wanted to kiss him. Maybe it was the clothes, the casual attitude, or the beer breath. Maybe it was Stabler saying that Toby belonged to him. Toby didn't know, but he wanted to kiss him and drop to his knees and-.

_"Watch your ass, Toby!"_

Toby jerked out of the way as a biker the size of a barge nearly slammed into him. He and Stabler ducked around the fight and moved to a safer location. Chris shot Toby a killer grin and swaggered off into the crowd. Toby blinked and rubbed his nose. Had he been snorting cocaine and missed it?

"You messed up?" Stabler asked. His eyes were sharp.

Toby shook his head and tried to look innocent. "Just naturally crazy."

More bikers arrived and some left. Peters was nowhere to be seen, but it was too soon to give up. Toby waited until Stabler was almost finished with his beer before grabbing it.

"I gotta piss." Toby took the bottle back to the john, rinsed it out, and filled it with water. He did his best not to enjoy the residue of Stabler's spit and beer on the lip. Stabler had relocated to the other end of the building where an old TV was tuned to the game. Toby sat down next to him. They chatted mindlessly through most of the game before someone approached them.

"You looking for Peters?"

"Yeah." Stabler glanced up at the guy. "Why?"

"He's dead." The fucker smiled. "Saw it myself. Alley not far from here."

"Damn it!" Stabler jumped up. "I needed that money!"

"Sell me your bitch for an hour."

Toby drank some water and then showed the fucker his teeth. "I bite."

Stabler laughed. "He bites. Damn. Let's get the hell out of here. We'll try your old lady."

"If we can find her." Toby shuffled up and took his bottle with him. He tossed it down in the street and climbed back on the bike. "We're fucked."

Stabler revved the engine. "Yep." He cruised the alleys until they spotted him. It was another ugly crime scene. He pulled out his cell phone, reported it, and sped away. Toby hung on and enjoyed the ride. Stabler took them to the precinct, and Cragen was still there. Did he ever go home? Toby raided the fridge in the lounge for a soda while Stabler gave a report. It was another dead end, unless forensics actually turned something up this time.

"You're sure no one made you?" Cragen pushed open the door and came in with Stabler right behind him.

"No way they did." Stabler poured himself a cup of coffee. "Beecher is convincing."

"And Stabler is huge." Toby shrugged. "We're fucked, Captain."

"Thank you for that accurate assessment. Okay, go home, and I hope you didn't expect OT." Cragen left them in the lounge. Stabler's ass hit a chair and he sipped his coffee. Toby drank his soda and waited for the complaints to start. It wouldn't be long.

"You should have stayed with me."

"You should have shoved me against the wall and humped me, just for show, of course. You didn't have to say I was your bitch. I can take care of myself." Toby calmly waited for Stabler to start yelling.

"Those guys could break you in half. Hell, they could break me in half." Stabler rubbed a hand down his face. "It just popped out. It didn't mean anything."

Toby didn't smile. He knew that, but he needed to focus on something besides his raging lust for Stabler in a wife-beater. "Why kill them? And why like that?"

"Someone is sending a message is my guess." Stabler leaned back and slowly spun his mug. "Did you know Peters?"

"No." Toby saw the glint in Stabler's eyes. "I swear!"

"Good enough. Let's grab some burgers and go home. If I head down to the crime scene, I'm almost sure my cover will be blown."

Toby bit back a comment about who he'd like to blow and finished his drink. "I hate Nazis, and bikers aren't much better."

"I know. Come on." Stabler found his jacket. Toby went along for the ride and managed not to cop a feel. It wasn't easy to keep his hands to himself, but he did it because he'd promised.

********

Stabler changed his mind halfway to the Burger Barn and gunned it back towards the crime scene. Beecher did nothing but hold on. Stabler could tell that Beecher was trying not to touch him. Whether it was respect or fear was anyone's guess. Stabler had about given up trying to figure Beecher out. It was impossible. He would crack jokes about humping and then refuse to touch him when it was hard not to, and watching him suck on that bottle had made Stabler's eyes want to cross. Beecher tried to get back farther, and Stabler clenched his teeth. He cruised past the patrol cars and looked over the small crowd that had gathered, but it was mostly street bums.

There was an old burger place across the street, and Stabler stopped the bike there. Beecher got off fast, and he looked slightly wild-eyed, but he followed Stabler inside. They got burgers, fries, and sodas, and sat down to eat it in a corner that let him keep an eye on who was coming and going.

"See anyone you know?"

"Sure." Stabler unwrapped his burger. It didn't look that bad. He felt the rumble before he saw them and he leaned close to Beecher. "Do not shank anyone."

"I don't see why you worry about it so much. The building would be yours. I changed my will," Beecher said dryly. He started eating. "This ain't as bad as Oz."

Stabler hoped they were discussing the food. The door opened and the place got a lot smaller. The tables around them filled up.

"Look at the fucking cops!"

"Bunch of pricks." The guy had a swastika on his forehead. "Peters is dead! They need to fucking get over it."

A big biker shoved his way onto the seat next to Beecher. "Haven't seen you around."

"Just got out of Oz," Beecher said firmly. Stabler wasn't sure what to say, so he glowered.

"Hey look! They called in the fucking de-tec-tives."

Stabler heard that as an insult. Beecher looked over his shoulder. "She's hot."

It was Benson. Stabler was glad she was wearing her armor. "They'll give up. No one's gonna give a shit."

"Peters was a fucking loser." Forehead guy again. "He'd peddle his ass for a quarter."

Beecher shoved the guy next to him away. "Get your fucking tongue out of my ear!"

Stabler wondered how he'd missed it. The guy laughed and wrapped his huge hand around Beecher's neck. "Little guy like you in Oz? Who was your daddy?"

Stabler lost it. He surged up, grabbed, and put the biker on his ass. "Back off!"

The biker got up and tried to shove him. Stabler didn't budge, and they were head to head. He could see Beecher out of the corner of his eye. Beecher was drinking his soda and watching calmly.

"If he's your bitch, you just needed to say so, fucker!"

"I thought it was obvious, asswipe!" Stabler shoved him out of the way and sat down next to Beecher. "I can leave another body here for the cops to find!"

"We get it." The forehead guy sat down across from him. "Back off, Lenny. He may be pretty, but he's one of us, and he's taken."

"I told ya not to shave," Stabler said to Beecher. "He's an ugly fucker with a beard."

Beecher laughed. "Thanks, prick."

"See we got a problem with Oz lately. They used to make men out of punks. Now they're turning men into punk asses." Forehead guy laughed. "But I can see you were always someone's bitch."

Everyone laughed, and Stabler managed a weak chuckle. Beecher's eyes blazed to hot blue, and Stabler shoved him back into the corner. "Live with it, Beech. You got on the back of my bike."

"Fuck off!"

No one really listened to him, and Stabler looked out the window again. "Whoever killed Peters owes me money."

Forehead nodded. "You find out who killed Peters, and we'll all stomp him to death. He might have been a good-for-shit bitch, but he was a part of the Brotherhood."

Beecher laughed sharply. He sounded as if he were about ready to come unhinged. "You fuckers did it. Robson too. Nazis always kill their bitches!"

Stabler didn't hesitate. He had to hurt him to protect him. He grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. "So, you're volunteering to go next?"

Forehead laughed and slapped Beecher across the face. "Your bitch is right, but we didn't because Peters and Robson still had some ass left on them."

Stabler got up from the bench, dragging Beecher behind him. "You're done, Beecher."

"Give me a taste of the bitcher." The bunch of them laughed, and Stabler suddenly had an armful of enraged Beecher on his hands. Beecher looked insane, and Stabler hated to do it, but he did. He hit him hard enough to bend him over, hauled him up, and threw him towards the door. From there, it was a short drag to the bike.

Stabler shook him hard. "Wrap your one brain cell around getting on the bike!"

Beecher rattled off a string of curse words that would have done justice to any sailor in town, but he got on the bike. Stabler reached back and grabbed Beecher's hand. "Hold on."

Beecher leaned into him and held on when Stabler got them moving at a speed which was borderline dangerous. Stabler considered taking Beecher home, but that was no place to have the argument that was brewing in Beecher's brain. He looped back when he spotted what he wanted, rented a room and half-expected Beecher to run off into the night. Beecher didn't though. He marched into the crappy motel room and disappeared into the bathroom.

Stabler locked the door and waited for him to come out. "Finished puking?"

Beecher wiped his face on a towel. "I fucking hate you!"

"I don't think those Nazi bikers did it. Do you?" Stabler had to stay calm in the face of Beecher's fury.

Beecher leaned against the wall and sighed. "No. They didn't."

Stabler was satisfied with that answer. He braced himself for the rest of it and calmly asked, "Bitcher?"

********

Toby thought he was over it. He thought he was under control. But that name sliding past Stabler's lips sent him spinning out of control again. He took two fast steps and threw a wild punch at Stabler's fat head. It never connected. Stabler put him on his stomach on the bed. Toby fought as hard as he could. The metal was cold, but Stabler didn't click them to the point of pain.

"When you settle down, I'll take them off!"

"You always carry cuffs, you pervert?" Toby stopped struggling. At this point, it wasn't productive. He rolled to his back, ignoring the ache in his wrists.

"Never hurts to have a pair handy." Stabler pulled up a rickety chair and sat down. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Toby told himself to breathe calmly, but he panted. "Schillinger called me that, and you told them my fucking name! They could track me down now! Are you gonna enjoy watching all those fuckers fuck me up the ass?"

Stabler seemed to hesitate. "I think you're overreacting."

"And I think you know you fucked up! Shit! I hope Holly isn't there the day they come to play!"

"That ain't gonna happen!" Stabler stood up fast and tossed the chair against the wall. "Toby, they won't, but you're right. I screwed up."

"You sure as fuck did." Toby blew out a big breath. "Now let your bitch loose."

Stabler sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. "No hitting. Curse all you want, but no punching."

Toby couldn't promise that yet. He was furious. Stabler calmly waited for an answer. Their eyes met and slid away, not just once.

_"If I had you in that position," Chris laughed. "Oh, damn, it would be sweet!"_

Toby's mouth went dry and his vulnerability slammed into his brain. Chris would fuck him. Stabler just looked at him, but those eyes said things. Toby told his cock to forget it and took a deep breath. A little bit of truth would get him out of these cuffs. "I think I'm starting to get aroused by this."

"You are nuts!" Stabler took a step back.

"Yeah. I know. Everyone knows." Toby shut his eyes. He was over it. He wasn't going to kill anyone, like Stabler. "They didn't do it."

"Which leaves us with, who did?" Stabler tugged him over and released the cuffs. "You did a good job in there, even with going crazy."

Toby sat up and rubbed his wrists. "Fuckers." He was close enough to lean against Stabler and only sheer willpower kept him from it. Stabler sighed and wrapped a long arm around him. Toby wanted to hit him, but all he could do was lean and breathe. "I went fucking nuts. Sorry."

"Shut up with that shit. The only reason I brought you along was because you know these men. Now tell me again, did they do it?"

"No. They're clueless, which for them is easy. We're looking in the wrong direction." Toby hoped Stabler never let him go. "They didn't know, or they wouldn't have been fucking them."

Stabler didn't take his arm away. "So which way do we look?"

Toby didn't think Stabler was really asking him. "Track who knew they were HIV positive, unless someone is just killing prags, and then I'm fucked." He began to wish Stabler would push him away. All these mixed signals were making him crazier than usual. "Elliot, tell me the truth. Did you hate kissing me?"

"Tell me the truth. How long were you abused by that Nazi?" Stabler's hand rubbed him gently on the back.

Toby didn't think that was relevant to anything. "Why? So you can laugh?"

"Toby."

"Don't fucking say my name that way." Toby didn't try to look Stabler in the eye. Did they have to talk about this? Stabler was quiet. He was waiting for an answer. Toby sighed. He hated feeling like a weakling. "Time was blurry because of the heroin. A year, more or less."

Stabler pulled him closer and held him tighter. "Why are you chasing Nazis then? Why do you care about Robson?"

Toby had to think about that. He wasn't sure he did. "I just wanted to ride around with you on a motorcycle."

"I don't believe that. For some reason, you care." Stabler shook him. "Tell the truth. You don't owe that guy anything."

"I know. He was a bully and a prick, but he paid for it. I was lucky. I don't have HIV." Toby felt the last of his anger drain away. "It could've been me in that apartment, chained to the bed and dead."

"That I believe. Okay, I'll go work the case." Stabler got up and pulled Toby with him. "If I need your help, I'll yell."

"That'll never happen." Toby pushed his hair back. "Don't go to Oz. Promise me."

"I won't. Cragen won't let me." Stabler edged closer again. "And the answer to your other question is: no, but it's wrong. I'll move out as soon as I can find a place."

"You haven't even paid your rent for last month!" Toby got away from him and the bed. He threw open the door and went out to the bike. Stabler was leaving him, of course. Toby nearly kicked the bike over. "Take my bitch ass home."

Stabler glared at him, but said nothing. It wasn't long before they were moving at a fast pace. Toby didn't lean into him. It was wrong? Maybe it was, but fuck that. It had felt right as nothing ever did. Stabler took them back to the precinct. "I have to return this. Catch a cab."

Toby walked off and went in the station house. He had to piss, and he wanted something to drink. If it bugged Stabler, well, fuck him.

********

Stabler turned in the bike, signed more paperwork, and headed for the squad room. He was trying very hard not to think about how close he'd come to kissing Beecher again. It was wrong, and Beecher was so messed up from prison that he didn't know what he wanted. It was wrong. A sin. That hotel had been a mistake on his part. It had put them in a situation where it would have been easy. Beecher hadn't pushed himself. Beecher wasn't to blame. This was all on him. He had no business kissing any man, or woman, not so soon after his divorce. It wasn't right.

"Get out of my chair!"

Beecher pretended he didn't hear. He pointed and clicked about six times more. "I was running MO's. You have more trouble than you realize."

"Out!" Stabler took him by the collar and lifted. Beecher didn't budge. He hit the print button. Stabler turned him loose and changed tactics. It was that or knock him unconscious. "Toby, please move away from my desk."

"All you had to do was ask." Beecher got up, but stayed close. He drank some soda, grabbed the paper coming off the printer, and said, "I turned up four other cases, going back five years. They were all released from Oz, and they all had HIV."

"Damn." Stabler shrugged off his coat. "Okay, let's pull it all together."

"I'm going home."

"Right. Sit down." Stabler knew Beecher was messing with him. "Until my real partner turns up, you'll do." This was turning into a huge case, an HIV serial killer. The press was going to love it. He pulled his eyes off Beecher's face and got organized. Working was the best way to forget it.

*********

Toby slumped down in a chair and rubbed his face. It was time to go home. Now that the team was working it together, he wasn't any help. They'd leave no rock unturned, to coin a phrase.

"Go home, Toby."

"I'm going as soon as I find energy to walk to the street." Toby smiled at Benson. "You guys don't need my help."

"You did enough. The rest is on us." Benson looked at her watch. "If I have to go out to Oz, I'll give you a call and go over a list of names with you."

"The rules at Oz are simple. Don't believe anyone, and everyone is guilty." Toby got up and stretched. "Dr. Nathan will help you, but listen to what she doesn't say."

Benson cocked her head. "She's dirty?"

"She's human. I'll catch you later." He was proud that he didn't look at Stabler. No. He left, and his apartment seemed like a good place to be. The sun was up, and he had no desire to go to bed. Instead, he took a shower, scoured the swastika off his hand, and felt better about the world. Clean and dressed, he went to make breakfast. Real food, not cereal. He scrubbed the kitchen, threw out some old food, and vacuumed. It was stupid, but he couldn't face the idea of closing his eyes. When the apartment was spotless, he made sure that Stabler's room wasn't a disaster. It wasn't, not yet.

"Beecher?"

Toby shut Stabler's bedroom door behind him and faced his parole officer. "Good morning, Johnson."

_"I have the feeling that you're fucked, Beech."_

Toby wasn't going to talk to Chris with Johnson in the room. "Is everything okay?"

"We had an appointment at nine a.m." Johnson frowned at him. "What the fuck is up with you?"

Toby rubbed his forehead. He'd forgotten his appointment. Shit. Chris was right again. "Sorry. I thought it was tomorrow. I was out all night with Stabler."

"He told me." Johnson picked up Toby's cell phone. "It helps if it's on."

Toby tried his best to look sheepish. He was in trouble now. "Sorry."

"Did you drink?"

"No." Toby didn't duck his head or do anything that might make him look guilty. "I put some water in a bottle and faked it. I nearly got in a fight, but Stabler knocked that idea right out of my head."

"Good for him." Johnson casually searched the apartment. "You need to work on your temper."

Toby sat on a barstool and waited for Johnson to finish. Johnson took his time, and Toby yawned twice. "Sorry. I'm tired."

"Staying out all night will do that." Johnson came back to him and smiled. "I've been doing some thinking and I want you to start going to AA meetings weekly."

"So I can tell everyone that I rely on a higher power to save my ass?" Toby didn't like the look of that smile. He didn't want to hear this shit, not after last night and all the problems he was having with Stabler.

"Yes." Johnson put his hands on his hips. "It'd be good for you to meet some other people that struggle with addictions."

Toby hated the idea. He'd attended group for years. It was bullshit. "And if I refuse?"

"I'm moving your curfew to six p.m. and confiscating your computer. I'm also going to have the search team come through this place on a regular basis." Johnson was very serious. "And I'm going to give you a piss test every time you turn around."

"All good tactics to use when someone balks." Toby wasn't sure which he preferred. "Give me some time to think about it."

Johnson raised his eyebrows. "Now would work better for me."

Toby hated to lose his computer, but there was always Starbucks. "I refuse to attend faith based meetings. They're a violation of my constitutional rights."

"You have no rights." Johnson sighed. "You're an atheist?"

"You see? AA is all about religion, not getting clean. I'll meet with a shrink weekly or find me a group that isn't about turning over all my respect to a higher power and I'll go." Toby took a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "Otherwise, bring on the Nazis. I'll live with it."

Johnson seemed stunned. "I'll call Dr. Huang and find out his position on this. It's not an argument that I've heard before."

"I'll be in by six tonight." Toby yawned again. He wasn't going anywhere today. "And take the computer."

"I will." Johnson shook his head, snatched up the computer, and smiled tightly. "You're a pain in the ass lawyer, and I think you're drinking again. If I catch one whiff, you're going back."

Toby went to the couch and slumped down. Things had just gone to hell with Johnson. It had been bound to happen. "Some days it would have been easier to do fifteen."

Johnson didn't answer, but he shut the door pretty hard on his way out. Toby put his head in his hands. He knew more about group, religion and addictions than a man should, and he wasn't going, not even to meet cute girls or guys. Johnson could wipe that stupid grin off his face. It wasn't going to happen.

********

Stabler rolled onto the cot and shut his eyes. He had to have a couple of hours before he started interrogating people. Beecher had gone home. He hadn't said a word, just left. It was practically a slap in the face. Stabler flashed back to his arms wrapped around him. Touching him had been a mistake. He'd looked so miserable, so angry, and it had been impossible to turn away from him. A year. He'd been abused for a year. No wonder he'd done drugs. Who wouldn't? Stabler put his arm over his eyes. He would not kiss him again. It would lead to clutching hands and shoving skin. Oh God.

********

Toby called Angus and let him know what was in the wind with Johnson. Angus had been appropriately outraged. It was enough to make a brother smile. Tossing the phone aside, Toby collapsed on the couch and shut his eyes. The pillow smelled faintly like Stabler's aftershave. Stabler had held him. Stabler had also hit him. All that was a little too much like his relationship with Chris for comfort.

"Fuck," Toby whispered. He was about one hug away from throwing himself at Stabler, taking the beating, and watching him move out. It would be terrible, but it was coming. It might be easier to live with nothing. No. It wouldn't. He put his arm over his eyes and prayed for the strength to deal with Johnson and Stabler. God might listen this time.

********

Stabler put on his coat and tried to hide a yawn. He was bone-tired, but he could go home and sleep for two days.

"Good job, everyone. Sorry about the lack of overtime." Cragen looked tired also. He'd go home eventually. "Stabler, make sure to thank Beecher for me."

Stabler nodded and caught Benson's eye. "You have a good time at the game?"

"How'd you know?"

"Saw you on TV." Stabler stifled another yawn. "That was my ticket!"

Benson laughed. "Great seats. It was fun. We saw Billy Joel!"

"Well, that I don't care about." Stabler shrugged, and they started for their cars.

"Hey, Stabler?"

"Yeah?"

"When you get time, wash that swastika off your neck. It's creeping me out, and I think you scared the crap out of our perp."

Stabler laughed. He'd totally forgotten. "I wondered why he looked like he might shit himself."

"Everyone was scared." Benson waved and got in her car. Stabler did the same, but he sat for a second and prayed for the strength not to touch Beecher. No touching. None. The drive wasn't long enough, and he went up the steps slowly. The door was unlocked, and he went in quietly. Beecher wasn't around though. Stabler checked his watch. It was seven. Still early. Beecher might be playing with little Maria and the baby. Stabler went to his room, got naked, and headed for the shower. He pushed open the door, and Beecher bumped into him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"I didn't think you were home!" Stabler didn't know what to do with his hands. He ended up doing a small dance that pushed Beecher out the door, and then he shut it hard. The no touching thing was getting off to a bad start.

"Fucking nudist!" Beecher yelled through the door.

Stabler was too tired to think clearly, and he leaned against the wall and laughed. Surely God was having some fun with him. That had to be it. He got wet and washed, making sure to get the tattoo off. Ignoring the physical reaction to getting groped wasn't easy, but his fatigue helped. Finally, he did nothing more than let the water stream off his back. He needed to move out.

********

Toby felt like he'd dipped his hands in molten lava. He rubbed his face and tried to remove the image from his brain. Didn't work. It was after six, he couldn't leave, and he was too tired to make a run for Mexico. Although, that option was looking better and better. He laughed softly. He was a fucking idiot. Stabler didn't want him. Get over it! Find someone else to drool over and think about all day long. The shower cut off, and he groaned softly. His room was the best place to hide.

_"Damn, he's hot! Let's-"_

"Chris! Shut the fuck up!" Toby hissed. Didn't he have enough trouble?

Stabler pushed open the door. "Hey, Beech. Sorry about that."

"Do me a favor and get out." Toby didn't look at him. What if he was still naked? Okay. Toby looked. Damn. Clothes. "Wait. Sorry. Forget I said that. Did you catch the guy?"

"Yeah. He was sloppy when he killed Peters. Forensics found some DNA evidence." Stabler seemed to be avoiding looking at him. "It was Karl Richens."

"No shit!" Toby couldn't believe it. "The faggot CO? I'll be damned."

"Faggot?" Stabler ran his hand over his eyes. He was probably hoping that Toby would vanish.

"That's what everyone called him. He worked the AIDS unit." Toby got up from his desk. Stabler took a step back. Toby wanted to get rid of him. "You hungry?"

"Yeah." Stabler shrugged. "You want to go out to eat?"

"Can't. Go on. There isn't much here except peanut butter. I fell asleep, and it was too late to get to the store."

Stabler opened the fridge and grabbed a soda. "It's only eight."

"I noticed." Toby sat on a barstool and idly opened a magazine. He was trying his best to act casual but the image of Stabler naked was sticking with him. "Karl Richens. I can't believe it."

"Believe it. He didn't have a problem with convicts with AIDS, as long as they stayed behind bars where they belonged." Stabler sighed. "You won't go out, or you can't?"

"Can't. Sorry. Go eat." Toby leaned into his fist. He didn't want to discuss this. Stabler would take Johnson's side, and Toby didn't want to hear it.

"Johnson moved your curfew to eight?"

"Six." Toby shrugged. He had to act casual, as if it didn't matter. It didn't. "One cell is as good as another. He's pissed. He'll get over it."

"Toby, it ain't smart to piss off your parole officer. What did you do?"

Toby had known Stabler would blame him, but it was still irritating. "I missed my appointment, and I won't go to AA meetings. Six p.m. curfew, no computer, and searches are the result. If I were you, I'd move out."

"You forgot to go see him this morning? Damn it!" Stabler burst out. Toby knew what was coming next. Stabler sat down on the other stool. "And get your ass to a damn meeting!"

"No. It's non-negotiable." Toby turned the page. He was determined to stay calm. "Don't give me those mean eyes. Forget it."

Stabler made a sound that was rude. "Why the hell not?"

Toby was too tired to go over his arguments again. It's wasn't like Stabler would understand. He was a good Catholic and he believed in the justice system. "Want me to order a pizza?"

"No!" Stabler slapped his hand down on the counter. "Tell me why."

Toby told him in clear, concise English that outlined his argument and he backed up his case with several examples. He finished with, "I'm not doing it. A man has to have some pride."

Stabler glared. His expression hadn't changed since the start of the conversation. "You're being an ass."

"Yeah. Well. Pizza?" Toby shut the magazine.

Stabler put his head in his hands. "My roommate is an idiot."

"The searches are going to be a pain, but I'll clean up. Like I said, you should move out."

Stabler didn't look at him. "Just do it."

Toby exploded. His rage was instant, fast, and pulsed through him, but it would solve nothing, and it would get him a black eye. He stood up, throttled it down, and wished for his cane.

"Settle down." Stabler watched him warily.

"No!" Toby went to his room before he started hitting or throwing things. His control had always been precarious, but he refused to lose it with Stabler tonight. Toby tossed himself on the bed and stared at the light. He would not hit him. Not.

*********

Stabler knew he was in trouble when that vein on Beecher's forehead popped out. Apparently, he felt strongly about attending meetings. It was stupid, but Beecher had a point.

Stabler opened his phone and made a call. "Johnson, this is Stabler."

"I know what this is about." Johnson was being a wiseass.

"Do you?" Stabler was instantly put off, and he changed tactics. "I wanted to let you know that we arrested Karl Richens today. I know he's a friend of yours."

"Karl?" Johnson was quiet a long moment. "Damn. You sure he's good for it?"

"Yes. No question. I'm still at work." Stabler hated to lie, but it would serve his purpose. "You're not going to jam Beecher up for staying out all night on this case, are you? Beecher did a good job. Without him, we never would have caught Richens."

"I saw him. He forgot our appointment." Johnson still sounded angry. "If you take him to bars, how can he stay sober?"

Stabler had his answer. This AA crap was all about him. "Because he has two children that are depending on him. That's why, and it's the only thing that keeps him clean. I could take him on a tour of a heroin lab, and he'd keep walking!"

"I'm not as convinced as you are." Johnson sighed heavily. "I think he's hitting the bottle, and he's going to start attending meetings. Huang agrees with me, and that's the way it's going to be!"

"I can see you've made up your mind," Stabler said forcefully. "Later." He clicked off. Johnson was pushing Beecher too hard, and nothing good was going to come of it.

Stabler put his phone on the counter and went back to Beecher's bedroom. Beecher glanced up at him. Stabler hoped the anger was gone. "Over it?"

"Yeah. I never had a temper when I drank." Beecher shrugged and sat cross-legged on the bed. "If the shit is going to start flying around here, you do need to move out. I have an apartment coming open in a week, two bedrooms. It's right above this one."

Stabler shrugged. He didn't want to move out, but he probably should. "Do I get custody of the TV?"

Beecher stared at him. "Shut my cell door on the way out."

"I'm ordering a pizza." Stabler was too tired to play word games. "Oh, and I'm not a nudist."

Beecher fell back flat. "Put a bullet in me, would ya?"

Stabler went to order a pizza. After he ate and slept for a day, he'd be able to think straight again.

********

Toby quit worrying about it. When the searches started, Stabler would leave. He should leave. It was the best thing. It was. Toby had a feeling that some bad shit was coming his way. Saying no to his parole officer was stupid, but he wasn't going to change his mind. He'd live with it.

********  
End


End file.
